The 

Epi<^ijiii 
Hades 


Morris 


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THE 


EPIC  OF  HADES 


IN    THREE    BOOKS 


BY 

LEWIS    MORRIS 


'■Difficile  est  proprie  coiiimiinia  dicere  ' 


Nnw  Yokk:  46  East  Fourteenth  Stkeet 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  COMPANY 
Boston  :  100  Pukckase  Stkbut 


"  The  three  excellences  of  Poetry :   simplicity  of  language,  sim- 
plicity of  subject,  and  simplicity  of  invention."—  The  Welsh  Triads. 


TYl'OGKAPHV    BY   C.    J.    PETERS   &   SON,    BOSTON. 


PRESSWOKK    BY    BERWICK    &    SMIl  H. 
/   ?  '7   6 


RICHARD  MONCKTON  MILNES, 

LORD    HOUGHTON, 

THIS    POEM    IS    DEDICATED 
BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK    I. 

TARTARUS. 

PAGE 

Tantalus     6 

PHi«DRA l8 

Sisyphus 31 

CLYTi^MNESTRA 42 


BOOK    II. 

HADE.S.  , 

MAR.SVAS 63 

Andromeda 73 

Action ........  84 

Helen 92 

EuRYDicE no 

Orpheus 114 

Deianeira 117 

Laocoon 126 

Narcissus    . 132 

V 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Medusa 140 

Adonis 149 

Persephone 153 

Endymion 159 

Psyche 165 


BOOK   III. 

OLYMPUS. 

Artemis 181 

Herakles 185 

Aphrodit^ 188 

Athene 193 

Her^ 198 

Apollo 202 

Zeus 206 


BOOK     I. 

TARTARUS. 


THE   EPIC   OF   HADES. 


In  February,  when  the  dawn  was  slow, 
And  winds  lay  still,  I  gazed  upon  the  fields 
Which  stretched  before  me,  lifeless,  and  the  stream 
Which  labored  in  the  distance  to  the  sea, 
Sullen  and  cold.     No  force  of  fancy  took 
My  thought  to  bloomy  June,  when  all  the  land 
Lay  deep  in  crested  grass,  and  through  the  dew 
The  landrail  brushed,  and  the  lush  banks  were  set 
With  strawberries,  and  the  hot  noise  of  bees 
Lulled  the  bright  flowers.      Rather  I  seemed  to  move 
Thro'  that  weird  land,  Hellenic  fancy  feigned. 
Beyond  the  fabled  river  and  the  bark 
Of  Charon  ;  and  forthwith  on  every  side 
Rose  the  thin  throng  of  ghosts. 

First  thro'  the  gloom 
Of  a  dark  grove  I  strayed  —  a  sluggish  wood. 
Where  scarce  the  faint  fires  of  the  setting  stars, 
3 


4  THE    EPIC   OE  HADES. 

Or  some  gold  gleam  of  half-discovered  dawn, 
Might  pierce  the  darkling  pines.     A  twilight  drear 
Brooded  o'er  all  the  depths,  and  filled  the  dank 
And  sunken  hollows  of  the  rocks  with  shapes 
Of  terror, —  beckoning  hands  and  noiseless  feet 
Flitting  from  shade  to  shade,  wide  eyes  that  stared 
With  horror,  and  dumb  mouths  which  seemed  to  cry, 
Yet  cried  not.     An  ineffable  despair 
Hung  over  them  and  that  dark  world  and  took 
The  gazer  captive,  and  a  mingled  pang 
Of  grief  and  anger,  grown  to  fierce  revolt 
And  hatred  of  the  Invisible  Force  which  holds 
The  issue  of  our  lives  and  binds  us  fast 
Within  the  net  of  Fate ;  as  the  fisher  takes 
The  little  cjuivering  sea-things  from  the  sea 
And  flings  them  panting  down  to  die  on  the  shore, 
Then  spreads  his  net  for  more.     And  then  again 
I  knew  myself  and  those,  creatures  who  lie 
Safe  in  the  strong  grasp  of  Unchanging  Law, 
Encompassed  round  by  hands  unseen,  and  chains 
Which  do  support  the  feeble  life  that  else 
Were  spent  on  barren  space  ;  and  thus  I  came 
To  look  with  less  of  horror,  more  of  thought, 
And  bore  to  see  the  sight  of  pain  that  yet 
Should  <rrow  to  healing,  when  the  concrete  stain 


THE   EPIC   OF  HADES.  5 

Of  life  and  act  were  purged,  and  the  cleansed  soul, 
Renewed  by  the  slow  wear  and  waste  of  time, 
Soared  after  aeons  of  days. 

They  seemed  alone. 
Those  prisoners,  thro'  all  time.     Each  soul  shut  fast 
In  its  own  jail  of  woe,  apart,  alone, 
For  evermore  alone ;  no  thought  of  kin. 
Or  kindly  human  glance,  or  fellowship 
Of  suffering  or  of  sin,  made  light  the  load 
Of  solitary  pain.     Ay,  though  they  walked 
Together,  or  were  prisoned  in  one  cell 
With  the  partners  of  their  wrong,  or  with  strange 

souls 
Which  the  same  Furies  tore,  they  knew  them  not, 
But  suffered  still  alone  ;  as  in  that  shape 
Of  hell  fools  build  on  earth,  where  hopeless  sin 
Rots  slow  in  solitude,  nor  sees  the  face 
Of  men,  nor  hears  the  sound  of  speech,  nor  feels 
The  touch  of  human  hand,  but  broods  a  ghost, 
Hating  the  bare  blank  cell  —  the  other  self, 
Which  brought  it  thither  — hating  man  and  God, 
And  all  that  is  or  has  been. 


THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 


A  great  fear 
And  pity  froze  my  blood,  who  seemed  to  see 
A  half-remembered  form. 

An  Eastern  King 
It  was  who  lay  in  pain.      He  wore  a  crown 
Upon  his  painful  brow,  and  his  white  robe 
Was  jewelled  with  fair  gems  of  price,  the  signs 
Of  pomp  and  honor  and  all  luxury, 
Which  might  prevent  desire.     But  as  I  looked 
There  came  a  hunger  in  the  gloating  eyes, 
A  quenchless  thirst  upon  the  parching  lips. 
And  such  unsatisfied  strainings  in  the  hands 
Stretched  idly  forth  on  what  I  could  not  see, 
Some  fatal  food  of  fancy  ;  that  I  knew 
The  undying  worm  of  sense,  which  frets  and  gnaws 
The  unsatisfied  stained  soul. 

Seeing  me,  he  said  : 
"  What  ?     And  art  thou  too  damned  as  I  ?     Dost 

know 
This  thirst  as  I,  and  see  as  I  the  cool 
Lymph  drawn  from  thee  and  mock  thy  lips ;  and 

parch 


TA  A' TALUS.  J 

For  ever  in  continual  thirst ;  and  mark 

The  fair  fruit  offered  to  thy  hunger  fade 

Before  thy  longing  eyes  ?      I  thought  there  was 

No  other  as  I  thro'  all  the  weary  lengths 

Of  Time  the  gods  have  made,  who  pined  so  long 

And  found  fruition  mock  him. 

Long  ago, 
When  I  was  young  on  earth,  'twas  a  sweet  pain 
To  ride  all  day  in  the  long  chase,  and  feel 
Toil  and  the  summer  fire  my  blood  and  parch 
My  lips,  while  in  my  father's  halls  I  knew 
The  cool  bath  waited,  with  its  marble  fioor; 
And  juices  from  the  ripe  fruits  pressed,  and  chilled 
With    snows    from    far-off    peaks;    and    troops    of 

slaves ; 
And  music  and  the  dance;   and  fair  young  forms. 
And  dalliance,  and  every  joy  of  sense. 
That  haunts  the  dreams  of  youth,  wliicii  strength  and 

ease 
Corrupt,  and  vacant  hours.      Ay,  it  was  sweet 
For  a  while  to  plunge  in  these,  as  fair  boys  plunge 
Naked  in  summer  streams,  all  veil  of  shame 
Laid  by,  only  tlie  young  dear  body  bathed 
And  sunk  in  its  delight,  while  tlie  firm  earth. 
The  soft  green  pastures  gay  with  innoccJit  flowers. 


8  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

Or  sober  harvest  fields,  show  like  a  dream  ; 

And  nought  is  left,  but  the  young  life  which  floats 

Upon  the  depths  of  death,  to  sink,  maybe, 

And  drown  in  pleasure,  or  rise  at  length  grown  wise 

And  gain  the  abandoned  shore. 

Ah,  but  at  last 
The  swift  desire  waxed  stronger  and  more  strong, 
And  feeding  on  itself,  grows  tyrannous ; 
And  the  parched  soul  no  longer  finds  delight 
In  the  cool  stream  of  old;  nay,  this  itself. 
Smitten  by  the  fire  of  sense  as  by  a  flame. 
Holds  not  its  coolness  more;  and  fevered  limbs, 
Seeking  the  fresh  tides  of  their  youth,  may  find 
No  more  refreshment,  but  a  caldron  fired 
With  the  fires  of  nether  hell  ;  and  a  black  rage 
Usuqjs  the  soul,  and  drives  it  on  to  slake 
Its  thirst  with  crime  and  blood. 

Longing  Desire ! 
Unsatisfied,  sick,  impotent  Desire  ! 
Oh,  I  have  known  it  ages  long.      I  knew 
Its  pain  on  earth  ere  yet  my  life  had  grown 
To  its  full  stature,  thro'  the  weary  years 
Of  manhood,  nay,  in  age  itself ;   I  knew 
The  quenchless  weary  thirst,  unsatisfied 
By  all  the  charms  of  sense,  by  wealth  and  power 


TANTALUS.  9 

And  homage  ;  always  craving,  never  quenched — - 
The  undying  curse  of  the  soul !     The  ministers 
And  agents  of  my  will  drave  far  and  wide 
Through  all  the  land  for  me,  seeking  to  find 
Fresh  pleasures  for  me,  who  had  spent  my  sum 
Of  pleasure,  and  had  power,  not  even  in  thought, 
Nor  faculty  to  enjoy.     They  tore  apart 
The  sacred  claustral  doors  of  home  for  me, 
Defiled  the  inviolate  hearth  for  me,  laid  waste 
The  flower  of  humble  lives,  in  hope  to  heal 
The  sickly  fancies  of  the  king,  till  rose 
A  cry  of  pain  from  all  the  land  ;  and  I 
Grew  happier  for  it,  since  I  held  the  power 
To  quench  desire  in  blood. 

But  even  thus 
The  old  pain  faded  not,  but  swift  again 
Revived  ;  and  thro'  the  sensual  dull  lengths 
Of  mv  seraglios  I  stalked,  and  marked 
The  glitter  of  the  gems,  the  precious  webs 
Plundered  from  every  clime  by  cruel  wars 
That  strewed  the  sands  with  cor])ses  ;  lovely  eyes 
That  looked  no  look  of  love,  and  fired  no  more 
Thouglits  of  the  flesh  ;   rich  meats,  and  fruits,  and 

wines 
Grown  flat  and  savorless ;  and  loathed  them  all, 


lO  THE   EPIC   OF  IJADES. 

And  only  cared  for  power  ;  content  to  slied 
Rivers  of  innocent  blood,  if  only  thus 
I  might  appease  my  thirst.     Until  I  grew 
A  monster  gloating  over  blood  and  pain. 

Ah,  weary,  weary  days,  when  every  sense 
Was  satislied,  and  nothing  left  to  slake 
The  parched  unhappy  soul,  except  to  watch 
The  writhing  limbs  and  mark  the  slow  blood  drip, 
Drop  after  drop,  as  the  life  ebbed  with  it ; 
In  a  new  thrill  of  lust,  till  blood  itself 
Palled  on  me,  and  I  knew  the  fiend  I  was. 
Yet  cared  not  —  I  who  was,  brief  years  ago, 
Only  a  careless  boy  lapt  round  with  ease, 
Stretched  by  the  soft  and  stealing  tide  of  sense 
Which  now  grew  red  ;  nor  ever  dreamed  at  all 
What  Furies  lurked  beneath  it,  but  had  shrunk 
In  indolent  horror  from  the  sight  of  tears 
And  misery,  and  felt  my  inmost  soul 
Sicken  with  the  thought  of  blood.     There  comes  a 

time 
When  the  insatiate  brute  witliin  the  man. 
Weary  with  wallowing  in  the  mire,  leaps  forth 
Devouring,  and  the  cloven  satyr-hoof 
Grows  to  the  rending  claw,  and  the  lewd  leer 


TANTALUS.  II 

To  the  horrible  fanged  snarl,  and  the  soul  sinks 
And  leaves  the  man  a  devil,  all  his  sin 
Grown  savorless,  and  yet  he  longs  to  sin 
And  longs  in  vain  for  ever. 

Yet,  methinks, 
It  was  not  for  the  gods  to  leave  me  thus. 
I  stinted  not  their  worship,  building  shrines 
To  all  of  them  ;  the  Goddess  of  Love  I  served 
With  hecatombs,  letting  the  fragrant  fumes 
Of  incense  and  the  costly  steam  ascend 
From  victims  year  by  year;  nay,  my  own  son 
Pelops,  my  best  beloved,  I  gave  to  them, 
Offering,  as  he  must  offer  who  would  gain 
The  great  gods'  grace,  my  dearest. 

I  had  gained 
Through  long  and  weary  orgies  that  strange  sense 
Of  nothingness  and  wasted  days  which  blights 
The  exhausted  life,  bearing  upon  its  front 
Counterfeit  knowledge,  when  the  bitter  ash 
Of  Evil,  which  the  sick  soul  loathes,  appears 
Like  the  pure  fruit  of  Wisdom.      I  had  grown 
As  wizards  seem,  who  mingle  sensual  rites 
And  forms  im])ure  with  murderous  spells  and  dark 
Enchantments;  till  the  simple  people  held 
My  very  weakness  wisdom,  and  believed 


12  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

That  in  my  blood-stained  palace-halls,  withdrawn, 

I  kept  the  inner  mysteries  of  Zeus 

And  knew  the  secret  of  all  Being ;  who  was 

A  sick  and  impotent  wretch,  so  sick,  so  tired. 

That  even  bloodshed  palled. 

For  my  stained  soul, 
Knowing  its  sin,  hastened  to  purge  itself 
With  every  rite  and  charm  which  the  dark  lore 
Of  priestcraft  offered  to  it.      Spells  obscene. 
The  blood  of  innocent  babes,  sorceries  foul 
Muttered  at  midnight  —  these  could  occupy 
My  weary  days ;  till  all  my  people  shrank 
To  see  me,  and  the  mother  clasped  her  child 
Who  heard  the  monster  pass. 

They  would  not  hear. 
They  listened  not — the  cold  ungrateful  gods  — 
For  all  my  supplications  ;  nay,  the  more 
I  sought  them  were  they  hidden. 

At  the  last 
A  dark  voice  whispered  nightly  :  '  Thou,  poor  wretch. 
That  art  so  sick  and  impotent,  thyself 
The  source  of  all  thy  misery,  the  great  gods 
Ask  a  more  precious  gift  and  excellent 
Than  alien  victims  wliich  tliou  ])rizest  not 
And  givest  without  a  pang.     But  shouldst  thou  take 


TANTALUS.  13 

Thy  costliest  and  fairest  offering 

'Twere  otherwise.     The  life  which  thou  hast  given 

Thou  niayst  recall.      Go,  offer  at  the  shrine 

Thy  best  beloved  Pelops,  and  appease 

Zeus  and  the  averted  gods,  and  know  again 

The  youth  and  joy  of  yore.' 

Nigiit  after  night, 
While  all  the  halls  were  still,  and  the  cold  stars 
Were  fading  into  dawn,  I  lay  awake 
Distraught  with    warring    thoughts,    my    throbbing 

brain 
Filled  with  that  dreadful  voice.      I  had  not  shrunk 
From  blood,  but  this,  the  strong  son  of  my  youths 
How  should  I  dare  this  thing  .?     And  all  day  long 
I  would  steal  from  sight  of  him  and  men,  and  fight 
Against  the  dreadful  thought,  until  the  voice 
Seared  all  my  burning 'brain,  and  clamored,  'Kill! 
Zeus  bids  thee,  and  be  happy.'     Then  I  rose 
At  milnight,  when  the  halls  were  still,  and  raised 
The  arras,  an  1  stole  soft  to  where  my  son 
Lay  sleeping.      For  one  moment  on  his  face 
And  stalwart  limbs  I  gazed,  and  marked  the  rise 
And  fall  of  his  young  breast,  and  the  soft  plume 
Which  drooped  upon  his  brow,  and  felt  a  thrill 
Of  yearning ;  but  the  cold  voice  urging  me 


14  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

llunicd  me  like  fire.     Three  times  I  gazed  and  turned 

Irresolute,  till  last  it  thundered  at  me, 

'  Strike,  fool !  thou  art  in  hell ;  strike,  fool  !  and  lose 

The  burden  of  thy  chains.'     Then  with  slow  step 

I  crept  as  creeps  the  tiger  on  the  deer, 

Raised  high  my  arm,  shut  close  my  eyes,  and  plunged 

My  dagger  in  his  heart. 

And  then,  with  a  flash, 
The  veil  fell  downward  from  my  life  and  left 
Myself  to  me  —  the  daily  sum  of  sense  — 
The  long  continual  trouble  of  desire  — 
The  stain  of  blood  blotting  the  stain  of  lust  — • 
The  weary  foulness  of  my  days,  which  wrecked 
My  heart  and  brain,  and  left  me  at  the  last 
A  madman  and  accursed ;   and  I  knew. 
Far  higher  than  the  sensual  slope  which  held 
The  gods  whom  erst  I  worshipped,  a  white  peak 
Of  Purity,  and  a  stern  voice  pealing  doom  — 
Not  the  mad  voice  of  old  —  which  pierced  so  deep 
Within  my  life,  that  with  the  reeking  blade 
Wet  with  the  heart's  blood  of  my  child  I  smote 
My  guilty  heart  in  twain. 

Ah  I   fool,  to  dream 
That  tlie  long  stain  of  time  might  fade  and  merge 
In  one  poor  chrism  of  blood.     They  taught  of  yore, 


TANTALUS. 


15 


My  priests  who  flattered  me  —  nor  knew  at  all 

The  greater  God  I  know,  who  sits  afar 

Beyond  those  earthly  shapes,  passionless,  pure, 

And  awful  as  the  Dawn  —  that  the  gods  cared 

For  costly  victims,  drinking  in  the  steam 

Of  sacrifice  when  the  choice  hecatombs 

Were  offered  for  my  wrong.     Ah  no  !  there  is 

No  recompense  in  these,  nor  any  charm 

To  cleanse  the  stain  of  sin,  but  the  long  wear 

Of  suffering,  when  the  soul  which  seized  too  much 

Of  pleasure  here,  grows  righteous  by  tlie  pain 

Which  doth  redress  its  wrong.      For  what  is  Riglit 

But  equipoise  of  Nature,  alternating 

The  Too  Much  and  Too  Little  ?     Not  on  earth 

The  salutary  silent  forces  work 

Their  final  victory,  but  year  on  year 

Passes,  and  age  on  age,  and  leaves  the  debt 

Unsatisfied,  while  the  o'erburdened  soul 

Unloads  itself  in  pain. 

Therefore  it  is 
I  suffer  as  I  suffered  ere  swift  death 
Set  me  not  free,  no  otherwise ;  and  yet 
There  comes  a  healing  purpose  in  my  pam 
I  never  knew  on  earth  ;  nor  ever  here 
Tlic  oncc-l(jved  evil  grows,  only  the  tale 


1 6  yy/A'  KPJC  OF  jjad/.s. 

Of  penalties  grovyn  greater  hourly  dwarfs 
The  accomplished  sum  of  wrong.     And  yet  desire 
Pursues  me  still  —  sick,  impotent  desire, 
Fiercer  than  that  of  earth. 

We  are  ourselves 
Our  heaven  and  hell,  the  joy,  the  penalty, 
The  yearning,  the  fruition.      Earth  is  hell 
Or  heaven,  and  yet  not  only  earth  ;  but  still, 
After  the  swift  soul  leaves  the  gates  of  death. 
The  pain  grows  deeper  and  less  mixed,  the  joy 
Purer  and  less  alloyed,  and  we  are  damned 
Or  blest,  as  we  have  lived." 

He  ceased,  with  a  wail 
Like  some  complaining  wind  among  the  pines 
Or  pent  among  the  wave-worn  ocean  caves, 
A  sick,  sad  sound. 

Then  as  I  looked,  I  saw 
His  eyes  glare  horribly,  his  dry  parched  lips 
Open,  his  weary  hands  stretch  idly  forth 
As  if  to  clutch  the  air  —  infinite  pain 
And  mockery  of  hope.      "  Seest  thou  them  now.?" 
He  said.     "  I  thirst,  I  parch,  I  famish,  yet 
They  still  elude  me,  fair  and  tempting  fruit 
And  cooling  waters.      Now  they  come  again. 
See,  they  are  in  my  grasp,  they  are  at  my  lips, 


TANTALUS.  1 7 

Now  I  shall  quench  me.      Nay,  again  they  fly 
And  mock  me.      Seest  thou  them,  or  am  I  shut 
From  hope  for  ever,  hungering,  thirsting  still, 
A  madman  and  in  Hell?" 

And  as  I  passed 
In  horror.  Ids  large  eyes  and  straining  hands 
Froze  all  my  soul  with  pity. 


1 8  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 


Tlicn  it  was 
A  woman  whom  I  saw  :  a  dark  pale  Queen, 
With  passion  in  her  eyes,  and  fear  and  pain 
Holding  lier  steadfast  gaze,  like  one  who  sees 
Some  dreadful  deed  of  wrong  worked  out  and  knows 
Himself  the  cause,  yet  now  is  powerless 
To  stay  the  wrong  he  would. 

Seeing  me  gaze 
In  pity  on  her  woe,  she  turned  and  spake 
With  a  low  wailing  voice  — 

"  ThoT.1  well  mayst  gaze 
With  horror  on  me,  sir,  for  I  am  lost; 
I  have  shed  the  innocent  blood,  long  years  ago. 
Nay,  centuries  of  pain.      I  have  shed  the  blood 
Of  him  I  loved,  and  found  for  recompense 
But  self-inflicted  death  and  age-long  woe, 
Which  purges  not  my  sin.      And  yet  not  I 
It  was  who  did  it,  but  the  gods,  who  took 
A  woman's  loveless  heart  and  tortured  it 
With  love  as  with  a  fire.      It  was  not  I 
Who   slew   my   love,  but   Fate.      Fate   'twas  which 
brought 


PHAEDRA.  19 

My  love  and  me  together,  Fate  which  barred 
The  path  of  blameless  love,  yet  set  Love's  flame 
To  burn  and  smoulder  in  a  hopeless  heart, 
Where  no  relief  might  come. 

The  King  was  old. 
And  I  a  girl.     'Tis  an  old  tale  which  runs 
Thro'  the  sad  ages,  and  'twas  mine.      He  had  spent 
His  sum  of  love  long  since,  and  I  —  I  knew  not 
A  breath  of  Love  as  yet.      Ah,  it  is  strange 
To  lose  the  sense  of  maidenhood,  drink  deep 
Of  life  to  the  very  dregs,  and  yet  not  know 
A  flutter  of  Love's  wing.      Love  takes  no  thought 
For  pomp,  or  palace,  or  respect  of  men ; 
Nor  always  in  the  stately  marriage  bed, 
Closed  round  by  silken  curtains,  laid  on  down, 
Nestles  a  rosy  form  ;  but  'mid  wild  flowers 
Or  desert  tents,  or  in  the  hind's  low  cot, 
Beneath  the  aspect  of  the  unconscious  stars. 
Dwells  all  night  and  is  blest. 

My  love,  my  life ! 
He  was  the  old  man's  son,  a  fair  white  soul  — 
Not  like  the  others,  whom  the  fire  of  youth 
Burns  like  a  flame  and  hurries  unrestrained 
Thro'  riotous  days  and  nights,  but  virginal 
And  pure  as  any  maid.      No  wandering  glance 


20  THE   F.rrC   OF  HADES. 

He  deigned  for  all  the  maidens  young  and  fair 

Who  sought  their  Prince's  eye.     But  evermore, 

Upon  the  high  lawns  wandering  alone, 

He  dwelt  unwed;  weaving  to  Artemis, 

Fairest  of  all  Olympian  maids,  a  wreath 

From  the  unpolluted  meads,  where  never  herd 

Drives  his  white  flock,  nor  ever  scythe  has  come. 

But  the  bee  sails  upon  unfettered  wuig 

Over  the  spring-like  lawns,  and  Purity 

Waters  them  with  soft  dews ;  i  and  yet  he  showed 

Of  all  his  peers  most  manly  —  heart  and  soul 

A  very  man,  tender  and  true,  and  strong 

And  pitiful,  and  in  his  limbs  and  mien 

Fair  as  Apollo's  self. 

It  was  at  first 
In  Troezen  that  I  saw  him,  when  he  came 
To  greet  his  sire.     Amid  the  crowd  of  youths 
He  showed  a  Prince  indeed;  yet  knew  I  not 
Whom  'twas  I  saw,  nor  that  I  held  the  place 
Which  was  his  mother's,  only  from  the  throng 
Love,  with  a  barbed  dart  aiming,  pierced  my  heart 
Ere  yet  I  knew  what  ailed  me.      Every  glance 
Fired  me  ;  the  youthful  grace,  the  tall  straight  limbs, 
The  swelling  sinewy  arms,  the  large  dark  eyes 

'  Euripides,    '  Hippolytus,"  lines  70-7S. 


ril/F.DRA.  2 1 

Tender  yet  full  of  passion,  the  thick  locks 

Tossed  from  his  brow,   the    lip    and    cheek  which 

bore 
The  down  of  early  manhood,  seemed  to  feed 
My  heart  with  short-lived  joy. 

For  when  he  stood 
Forth  from  tlie  tlironti;  and  knelt  before  his  sire, 
Then  raised  his  eyes  to  mine,  I  felt  the  curse 
Of  Aphrodite  burn  me,  as  it  burned 
My  mother  before  me,  and  I  dared  not  meet 
His  innocent,  frank  young  eyes. 

Said  I  then  young  ? 
Ay,  but  not  young  as  mine.      But  I  had  known 
The  secret  things  of  life,  which  age  the  soul 
In  a  moment,  writing  on  its  front  their  mark 
'  Too  early  ripe ;  '  and  he  was  innocent, 
My  spouse  in  fitted  years,  within  whose  arms 
1  had  defied  ihe  world. 

I  turned  away 
Like  some  white  bird  that  leaves  the  flock,  which 

sails 
High  in  mid  air  above  the  haunts  of  men, 
Feeling  some  little  dart  within  her  breast. 
Not  death,  but  like  to  death,  and  slowly  sinks 
Down  to  the  eartli  alone,  and  bears  her  hurt 


22  THE   f'.riC   OF  HADES. 

Unseen,  by  herhless  sand  and  l)itter  pool, 
And  pines  until  the  end. 

Even  from  that  day 
I  strove  to  gain  his  love.      Nay,  'twas  not  I, 
But  the  cruel  gods  who  drove  me.      Day  by  day 
We  were  together ;  for  in  days  of  old 
Women  were  free,  not  pent  in  gilded  jails 
As  afterwards,  but  free  to  walk  alone, 
For  good  or  evil,  free.      I  hardly  took 
Thought  for  my  spouse,  the  King.     For  I  had  found 
My  love  at  last  :  what  matter  if  it  were 
A  guilty  love  ?     Yet  love  is  love  indeed. 
Stronger  than  heaven  or  hell.      Day  after  day 
1  set  myself  to  tempt  him  from  his  proud 
And  innocent  way,  for  I  had  spurned  aside 
Care  for  the  gods  or  men  - —  all  but  my  love. 

What  need  to  tell  tlie  tale.''     Was  it  a  sigh, 
A  blush,  a  momentary  glance,  which  brought 
Assurance  of  my  triumph  ?     It  is  long 
Since  I  have  lived,  I  cannot  tell ;  I  know 
Only  the  penalty  of  death  and  hell 
Which  followed  on  my  sin.      I  knew  he  loved. 
It  was  not  wonderful,  seeing  that  we  dwelt 
A  boy  and  girl  together.      I  was  fair, 


PI/AiDRA.  23 

And  Eros  fired  my  eyes  and  lent  my  voice 

His  own  soft  tremulous  tones.      But  when  our  souls 

Trembled  upon  the  verge,  and  fancy  feigned 

His  arms  around  me  as  we  fled  alone 

To  some  free  land  of  exilt,  lo !  a  scroll : 

'  Dearest,  it  may  not  be  ;  I  fear  the  Gods  ; 

We  dare  not  do  this  wrong.      I  go  from  hence 

And  see  thy  face  no  more.      Farewell  !      Forget 

The  love  we  may  not  own  ;  go,  seek  for  both 

Forgiveness  from  the  gods.' 

When  I  read  the  words, 
The  cruel  words,  methought  my  heart  stood  still, 
And  when  the  ebbing  life  returned  I  seemed 
To  have  lost  all  thought  of  Love.      Only  Revenge 
Dwelt  with  me  still,  the  fiercer  that  I  knew 
My  long-prized  hope,  which  came  so  near  success, 
Snatched  from  me  and  for  ever. 

When  1  rose 
From  my  deep  swoon,  1  bade  a  messenger 
(](),  seek  the  King  for  me.      He  came  and  sate 
Beside  my  couch,  and  ail  the  doors  were  clo.sed, 
And  all  witlidrawn.      'I'lien  with  tlie  liar's  art. 
And  hypocrite  tears,  and  feigned  reluclancy, 
And  all  the  subtle  wiles  a  woman  draws 
From  the  armory  of  hate,  I  diel  instil 


24  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

The  poison  to  liis  soul.      Cunning  devices, 
Feigned  sorrow,  mention  of  his  son,  regrets. 
And  half  confessions  —  these,  with  hateful  skill 
Confused  together,  drove  the  old  man's  soul 
To  frenzy  ;  and  I  watched  him,  with  a  sneer, 
Turn  to  a  dotard  thirsting  for  the  life 
Of  his  own  child.      But  how  to  do  the  deed, 
Yet  shed  no  blood,  nor  know  the  peojile's  hate, 
Who  loved  the  Prince,  I  knew  not. 

Till  one  day 
The  old  man,  looking  out  upon  the  sea. 
Besought  the  dread  Poseidon  to  avenge 
The  treachery  of  his  son.      Even  as  we  stood 
Gazing  upon  the  breathless  blue,  a  cloud 
Rose  from  the  deep,  a  little  fleecy  cloud. 
Which  sudden  grew  and  grew,  and  turned  the  blue 
To  purple;  and  a  swift  wind  rose  and  sang 
Higher  and  higher,  and  the  wine-dark  sea 
Grew  ruffled,  and  within  the  circling  bay 
The  tiny  ripples,  stealing  up  the  sand. 
Plunged  loud  with  manes  of  foam,  until  they  swelled 
To  misty  surges  thundering  on  the  shore. 

Then  at  the  old  man's  elbow  as  I  stood, 
A  deep  dark  thought,  sent  by  the  powers  of  ill, 


PIIALDRA.  25 

Answering,  as  now  I  know,  my  own  black  hate 

And  not  my  poor  dupe's  anger,  fired  my  soul 

And  bade  me  speak.    '  The  god  has  heard  thy  prayer,' 

I  whispered ;  '  See  the  surge  which  wakes  and  swells 

To  fury ;  well  I  know  what  things  shall  be. 

It  is  Poseidon's  voice  sounds  in  the  storm 

And  sends  thy  vengeance.     Young  Hippolytus 

Loves,  as  thou  knowest,  on  the  yellow  sand, 

Hard  by  the  rippled  margin  of  the  wave, 

To  urge  his  flying  steeds.     Bid  him  go  forth  — 

He  will  obey  —  and  see  what  recompense 

The  god  will  send  his  wrong.' 

In  the  old  man's  eyes 
A  watery  gleam  of  malice  played  awhile  — 
I  hated  him  for  it  —  and  he  bade  his  son 
Drive  forth  his  chariot  on  the  sand,  and  yoke 
His  three  young  fiery  steeds. 

And  still  the  storm 
Blew  fiercer  and  more  fierce,  and  the  white  crests 
Plunged  on  the  strand,  and  the  high  promontories 
Resounded  counter-stricken,  and  a  mist 
Of  foam,  blown  landward,  hid  the  sounding  shore. 

Then  I  saw  him  come  forth  and  bid  tlicm  yoke 
His  untamed  colts.      I  had  not  seen  his  face 


26  THE   EPIC   UE  HADES. 

Since  tlmt  last  day,  l)ut,  seeing  liini,  I  felt 

The  old  love  sprini^  anew,  yet  mixed  with  hate  — 

A  storm  of  warring  passions.      Tho'  I  knew 

What  end  should  come,  yet  would  I  speak  no  word 

That  might  avert  it.      The  old  man  looked  forth  ; 

I  think  he  had  well-nigh  forgotten  all 

The  wrong  he  fancied  and  the  doom  he  prayed, 

All  but  the  father's  pride  in  the  strong  son. 

Who  was  so  young  and  bold.      I  saw  a  smile 

Upon  the  dotard's  face,  when  now  the  steeds 

Were  harnessed  and  the  chariot,  on  the  sand 

Along  the  circling  margin  of  the  bay. 

Flew,  swift  as  light.      A  sudden  gleam  of  sun 

Flashed  on  the  silver  harness  as  it  went. 

Burned  on  the  brazen  axles  of  the  wheels ; 

And  on  tlie  golden  fillets  of  the  Prince 

Doubled  the  gold.      Sometimes  a  larger  wave 

Would  dash  in  mist  around  him,  and  in  fear 

The  rearing  coursers  plunged,  and  then  again 

The  strong  young  arm  constrained  them,  and  they 

flashed 
To  where  the  wave-worn  foreland  ends  the  bay. 

And  then  he  turned  his  chariot,  a  bright  speck 
Now  seen,  now  hidden,  but  always,  tho'  the  surge 


PIIALDRA.  27 

Broke  round  it,  safe;   emerging  like  a  star 

From  the  white  clouds  of  foam.     And  as  I  watched, 

Speaking  no  word,  and  breathing  scarce  a  breath, 

I  saw  the  firm  liml)s  strongly  set  apart 

Upon  tlie  chariot,  and  the  reins  held  higli, 

And  the  proud  head  bent  forward,  with  long  locks 

Streaming  behind,  as  nearer  and  more  near 

The  swift  team  rushed  —  until,  with  a  half  joy. 

It  seemed  as  if  my  love  might  yet  elude 

The  slow  sure  anger  of  the  god,  dull  wrath 

Swayed  by  a  woman's  lie. 

But  on  the  verge, 
As  I  cast  my  eyes,  a  vast  and  purple  wall 
Swelled  swiftly  towards  the  land  ;   the  lesser  waves 
Sank  as  it  came,  and  to  its  toppling  crest 
The  spume-flecked   waters,  from  the  strand  drawn 

back. 
Left  dry  the  yellow  shore.      Onward  it  came, 
Hoarse,  capped  with  breaking  foam,  lurid,  immense, 
Rearing  its  dreadful  height.     The  chariot  sped 
Nearer  and  nearer.      I  could  see  my  love 
With  the  light  of  victory  in  his  eyes,  the  smile 
Of  daring  on  his  lips :  so  near  he  came 
To  where  the  marljle  palace-wall  confined 
The  narrow  strij)  (jf  beach  —  his  brave  young  eyes 


28  THE  EPIC   OF  HADES. 

Fixed  steadfast  on  llie  goal,  in  the  pride  of  life, 

Without  a  thought  of  death.     I  strove  to  cry, 

But  terror  choked  my  breath.     Then,  like  a  bull 

Upon  the  windy  level  of  the  plain 

Lashing  himself  to  rage,  the  furious  wave, 

Poising  itself  a  moment,  tossing  high 

Its  wind-vexed  crest,  dashed  downward  on  the  strand, 

With  a  stamp,  witli  a  rusli,  with  a  roar. 

And  when  I  looked. 
The  shore,  the  fields,  the  plain,  were  one  white  sea 
Of  churning,  seething  foam  —  chariot  and  steeds 
Gone,  and  my  darling  on  the  wave's  white  crest 
Tossed  high,  whirled  down,  beaten,  and  bruised,  and 

flung. 
Dying  upon  the  marble. 

My  great  love 
Sprang  up  redoubled,  and  cast  out  my  hate 
And  spurned  ail  thought  of  fear ;  and  down  the  stair 
I  hurried,  and  upon  the  bleeding  form 
I  threw  myself,  and  raised  his  head,  and  clasped 
His  body  to  mine,  and  kissed  him  on  the  lips, 
And  in  his  dying  ear  confessed  my  wrong, 
And  saw  the  horror  in  his  dying  eyes 
And   knew    that    I    was    damned.        And   when    he 

breathed 


PI/yEDRA.  29 

His  last  pure  breath,  I  rose  and  slowly  spake  — 
Turned  to  a  Fury  now  by  love  and  pain  — 
To  the  old  man  who  knelt,  while  all  the  throng 
Could  hear  my  secret :   '  See,  thou  fool,  I  am 
The  murderess  of  thy  son,  and  thou  my  dupe. 
Thou  and  thy  gods.      See,  he  was  innocent ; 
I  murdered  him  for  love.      I  scorn  ye  all. 
Thee  and  thy  gods  together,  who  are  deceived 
By  a  woman's  lying  tongue  !      Oh,  doting  fool, 
To  hate    thy  own !     And  ye,   false  powers,  which 

punish 
The  innocent,  and  let  the  guilty  soul 
Escape  unscathed,  I  hate  ye  all  —  I  curse, 
I  loathe  you  ! ' 

Then  I  stooped  and  kissed  my  love, 
And  left  them  in  amaze ;   and  up  the  stair 
Swept  slowly  to  my  chamber,  and  therein, 
Hating  my  life  and  cursing  men  and  gods, 
I  did  myself  to  death. 

But  even  here, 
I  find  my  punishment.      Oh,  dreadful  doom 
Of  souls  like  mine!     To  see  their  evil  done 
Always  before  their  eyes,  the  one  dread  scene 
Of  horror.      See,  the  dark  wave  on  the  verge 
Towers  horrible,  and  he —     Oh,  Love,  my  Love! 


30  TIIR    KPIC   OF  //A/)/:S. 

Safety  is  near  !  quick!  quicker!   ur^e  tliem  on! 
Thou  wilt  'scape  it  yet  I  —  Nay,  nay,  it  bursts  on  him  ! 
I  have  slied  the  innocent  blood  !     Oh,  dreadful  gaze 
Within  liis  glazing  eyes  !     Hide  them,  ye  gods  ! 
Hide  them  !     I  cannot  bear  them.     Quick  !  a  dagger  ! 
I  will  lose  their  glare  in  death.      Nay,  die  I  cannot; 
I  must  endure  and  live  —  Death  brings  not  peace 
To  the  lost  souls  in  Hell." 

And  her  eyes  stared. 
Rounded  with  horror,  and  she  stooped  and  gazed 
So  eagerly,  and  pressed  her  fevered  hands 
Uj)on  her  trembling  forehead  with  such  pain 
As  drives  the  trazer  mad. 


SISYPHUS.  31 


Then  as  I  passed, 
I  marked  against  the  hardly  dawning  sky 
A  toilsome  figure  standing,  bent  and  strained. 
Before  a  rocky  mass,  which  with  great  pain 
And  agony  of  labor  it  would  thrust 
Up  a  steep  hill.      But  when  upon  the  crest 
It  poised  a  moment,  then  I  held  my  breath 
With  dread,  for,  lo  !   the  poor  feet  seemed  to  clutch 
The  hillside  as  in  fear,  and  the  poor  hands 
With  hopeless  fingers  pressed  into  the  stone 
In  agony,  and  the  limbs  stiffened,  and  a  cry 
Like   some   strong   swimmer's,   whom    the   mightier 

stream 
Sweeps  downward,  and  he  sees  his  children's  eyes 
Upon  the  bank,  broke  from  him  ;   and  at  last, 
After  long  struggles  of  despair,  the  limbs 
Relaxed,  and  as  I  closed  my  fearful  eyes, 
Seeing  the  inevitable  doom  — a  crash, 
A  horrible  thunderous  noise,  as  down  the  steep 
The  shameless  fragment  leapt.      From  crag  to  crag 
It  bounded  ever  swifter,  striking  tire 
And  wrapt  in  smoke,  as  to  the  lowest  depths 


32  riiE  i:r/c  of  hadks. 

of  the  vale  it  tore,  and  seemed  to  take  with  it 
The  miserable  form  whose  painful  gaze 
I  caught,  as  with  the  great  rock  whirled  and  dashed 
Downward,  and  marking  every  crag  with  gore 
y\nd  long  gray  hairs,  it  plunged,  yet  living  still, 
To  the  black  hollow  ;  and  then  a  silence  came 
More  dreadful  than  the  noise,  and  a  low  groan 
Was  all  that  I  could  hear. 

When  to  the  foot 
Of  the  dark  steep  I  hurried,  half  in  hope 
To  find  the  victim  dead  —  not  recognizing 
The  undying  life  of  Hell  —  I  seemed  to  see 
An  aged  man,  bruised,  bleeding,  with  gray  hairs, 
And  eyes  from  which  the  cunning  leer  of  greed 
Was  scarcely  yet  gone  out. 

A  crafty  voice 
It  was  that  answered  me,  the  voice  of  guile 
Part  purified  by  pain  : 

"  There  comes  not  death 
To  those  who  live  in  Hell,  nor  hardly  pause 
Of  suffering  longer  than  may  serve  to  make 
The  pain  renewed,  more  piercing.     Long  ago, 
I  thought  that  I  had  cheated  Death,  and  now 
I  seek  him  ;  but  he  comes  not,  nor  know  I 
If  ever  he  will  hear  me.     Whence  art  thou  ? 


I 


Sisyphu 


s/SYPiius.  33 

Comest  thou  from   earthly  air,  or  whence?     What 

power 
Has  brought  thee  hither?      For  I  know  indeed 
Thou  art  not  lost  as  I  ;  for  never  here 
I  look  upon  a  human  face,  nor  see 
The  ghosts  who  doubtless  here  on  every  side 
Suffer  a  common  pain,  only  at  times 
I  hear  the  echo  of  a  shriek  far  off, 
Like  some  faint  ghost  of  woe  which  fills  the  pause 
And  interval  of  suffering  ;  but  from  whom 
The  voice  may  come,  or  whence,  I  know  not,  only 
The  air  teems  with  vague  pain,  which  doth  distract 
The  ear  when  for  a  moment  comes  surcease 
Of  agony,  and  the  sense  of  effort  spent 
In  vain  and  fruitless  labor,  and  the  pang 
Of  long-deferred  defeat,  which  waits  and  takes 
The  world-worn  heart,  and  maddens  it  when  all  — 
Heaven,  conscience,  happiness,  are  staked  and  lost 
For  gains  which  still  elude  it. 

Yet  'twas  sweet, 
A  King  in  early  youth,  when  pleasure  is  sweet, 
To  live  the  fair  successful  years,  and  know 
The  envy  and  respect  of  men.      I  rnred 
For  none  of  youth's  delights  :  the  dance,  the  song, 
Allured  me  not  ;  the  smooth  soft  ways  of  sense 


34  THE   KPJC   OF  HADES. 

Tempted  me  not  at  all.     I  could  despise 

The  follies  tliat  I  shared  not,  spending  all 

Tlie  long  lal)()ri(nis  days  in  toilsome  scliemes 

To  compass  honor  and  weaUh,  and,  as  I  grew 

In  name  and  fame,  linding  my  hoarded  gains 

Tiansmuted  into  Power.      'I'he  seas  were  white 

W'itli  laden  argosies,  and  all  were  mine. 

The  sheltering  moles  defied  the  wintry  storms, 

And  all  were  mine.     The  marble  aqueducts, 

The  costly  bridges,  all  were  mine.      Fair  roads 

Wound  round  and  round  the  hills  —  my  work.     The 

gods 
Alone  I  heeded  not,  nor  cared  at  all 
For  aught  Init  that  my  eyes  and  ears  might  take, 
Spurning  invisible  things,  nor  built  I  to  them 
Temple  or  shrine,  wrapt  up  in  life,  set  round 
With  earthly  blessings  like  a  god.      I  rose 
To  such  excess  of  weal  and  fame  and  pride. 
My  people  held  me  godlike.      I  grew  drunk 
With  too  great  power,  scofiing  at  men  and  gods, 
Careless  of  botli,  but  not  averse  to  fling 
To  those  too  weak  themselves,  what  benefits 
My  larger  wisdom  spurned. 

Tlien  suddenly 
I  knew  the  pain  of  faihu'e.      Siunmer  storms 


s IS  Y PI/ us.  35 

Sucked  down  my  fleets  even  within  sight  of  port. 
A  grievous  blight  wasted  the  harvest-fields, 
Mocking  my  hopes  of  gain.    Wars  came  and  drained 
My  store,  and  I  grew  needy,  knowing  now 
The  hell  of  stronger  souls,  the  loss  of  power 
Wherein  they  exulted  once.     There  comes  no  pain 
Deeper  than  to  have  known  delight  of  power, 
And  then  to  lose  it  all.     But  I,  I  would  not 
Sit  tame  beneath  defeat,  trimming  my  sails 
To  wait  the  breeze  of  Fortune  —  fickle  breath 
Which  perhaps  might  breathe  no  more  —  but  chose 

instead 
By  rash  conceit  and  bolder  enterprise 
To  win  her  aid  again.      I  had  no  thought 
Of  selfish  gain,  only  to  be  and  act 
As  a  god  to  those,  feeding  my  sum  of  pride 
With  acted  good. 

But  evermore  defeat 
Dogged  me,  and  evermore  my  peopb  grew 
To  doubt  me,  seeing  no  more  the  wealth,  the  force, 
Which    once   they  worsliipped.     Then   the    lust   of 

power 
Loved,  not  for  sake  of  others,  but  itself. 
Grew  on  me,  and  the  pride  which  can  dare  all, 
Save  failure  only,  sei/.eil  me.      V.\\\  tinds 


36  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

Its  ready  chance.      There  were  ricli  argosies 
Upon  the  seas:  I  sank  them,  ship  and  crew, 
In  the  unbetraying  ocean.      Wayfarers 
Crossing  the  passes  witli  rich  merchandise 
My  creatures,  hid  behind  the  crags,  o'erwhelmed 
With  rocks  hurled  downward.    Yet  I  spent  my  gains 
For  the  public  weal,  not  otherwise ;  and  they. 
The  careless  people,  took  the  piteous  spoils 
Which  cost  the  lives  of  many,  and  a  man's  soul, 
And  blessed  the  giver.     Empty  venal  blessings. 
Which  sting  more  deep  than  curses  ! 

For  awhile 
I  was  content  with  this,  but  at  the  last 
A  great  contempt  and  hatred  of  them  took  me. 
The  base,  vile  churls  !     Why  should  I  stain  my  soul 
For  such  as  those  —  dogs  that  would  fawn  and  lick 
The  hand  that  fed  them,  but,  if  food  should  fail, 
Would  turn  and  rend  me  ?      I  would  none  of  them  ; 
I  would  grow  rich  and  happy,  being  indeed 
Godlike  in  brain  to  such.     So  with  all  craft, 
And  guile,  and  violence  I  enriched  me,  loading 
My  treasuries  with  gold.      My  deep-laid  schemes 
Of  gain  engrossed  the  long  laborious  days. 
Stretched  far  into  the  night.      Enjoy,  I  might  not, 
Seemg  it  was  all  to  do,  and  life  so  brief 


sisYPUus.  37 

That  ere  a  man  might  gain  the  goal  he  would, 

Lo !  Age,  and  with  it  Death,  and  so  an  end ! 

For  all  the  tales  of  the  indignant  gods. 

What  were  they  but  the  priests'  ?      I  had  myself 

Broken  all  oaths  ;  long  lime  deceived  and  ruined 

With  every  phase  of  fraud  the  pious  fools 

Whom    oath-sworn    Justice    bound ;    battened    on 

blood  ; 
And  what  was  I  the  worse  ?     How  should  the  gods 
Bear  rule  if  I  were  happy  ?     Death  alone 
Was  certain.     Therefore  must  I  haste  to  heap 
Treasure  sufficient  for  my  need,  and  then 
Enjoy  the  gathered  good. 

But  gradually 
There  came  —  not  great  disasters  which  might  crush 
All  hope,  but  petty  checks  which  did  decrease 
My  store,  and  left  my  labor  vain,  and  me 
Unwilling  to  enjoy  ;  and  gradually 
I  felt  the  chill  approach  of  age.  which  stole 
Higher  and  higher  on  me,  till  the  life. 
As  in  a  paralytic,  left  my  limbs 
And  heart,  and  mounted  upwards  to  my  brain. 
Its  last  resort,  and  rested  there  avvliile 
Ere  it  should  spread  its  wings.     But  even  thus, 
Tho'  powerless  to  enjoy,  the  insatiate  greed 


3S  T/IE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

And  tliirsl  of  power  sustained  nie,  and  supijlicd 
Life's  spark  with  some  scant  fuel,  till  it  seemed, 
Year  after  year,  as  if  I  could  not  die. 
Holding  St)  fast  to  life.      I  grew  so  old 
That  all  thecomrades  of  my  youth,  my  prime. 
My  age,  were  gone,  and  I  was  left  alone 
With  those  who  knew  me  not,  bereft  of  all 
Except  my  master  passion  —  an  old  man 
Forlorn,  forgotten  of  the  gods  and  Death. 

So  all  the  people,  seeing  me  grow  old 
And  prosperous,  held  me  wise,  and  spread  abroad 
Strange  fables,  growing  day  by  day  more  strange  — 
How  I  deceived  the  very  gods.     They  thought 
That  I  was  blest,  remembering  not  the  wear 
Of  anxious  thought,  the  growing  sum  of  pain. 
The  failing  ear  and  eye,  the  slower  limbs, 
Whose  briefer  name  is  Age  :  and  yet  I  trow 
I  was  not  all  unhappy,  though  I  knew 
It  was  too  late  to  enjoy,  and  though  my  store 
Increased  not  as  my  greed  —  nay,  even  sunk  down 
A  little,  year  by  year.     Till,  last  of  all. 
When  now  mv  time  was  come  and  I  had  grown 
A  little  tired  of  living,  a  trivial  hurt 
Laid  me  upon  my  bed  ;  and  as  I  mused 


s/svjv/i/s.  39 

On  my  long  life  and  all  its  villanies, 

The  wickedness  I  did,  the  blood  I  shed, 

Tiie   guile,    the   frauds  of  years — they  came  with 

news, 
One  now,  and  now  another ;  how  my  schemes 
Were  crushed,  my  enterprises  lost,  my  toil 
And  labor  all  in  vain.      Day  after  day 
They  brought  these  tidings,  while  I  longed  to  rise 
And  stay  the  tide  of  ill,  and  raved  to  know 
I  could  not.      At  the  last  the  added  sum 
Of  evil,  like  yon  great  rock  poised  awliile 
Uncertain,  gathered  into  one,  o'erwhelmed 
My  feeble  strength,  and  left  me  ruined  and  lost, 
And  showed  me  all  1  was,  and  all  the  depth 
And  folly  of  my  sin,  and  racked  my  brain. 
And  sank  me  in  despair  and  misery. 
And  broke  my  heart  and  slew  me. 

Therefore  'tis 
I  spend  the  long,  long  centuries  which  have  come 
Between  me  and  my  sin,  in  such  dread  tasks 
As  that  thou  sawest.      In  the  soul  I  sinned  : 
In  body  and  soul  I  suffer.     What  1  bade 
My  minions  do  to  others,  that  of  woe 
I  l;ear  myself  ;  and  in  the  pause  of  ill. 
As  now,  1  know  again  the  l)itter  i)ang 


40  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

Of  failure,  which  of  old  pierced  thro'  my  soul 

And  left  me  to  despair.     The  pain  of  mind 

Is  fiercer  far  than  any  bodily  ill, 

And  both  are  mine  —  the  pang  of  torture-pain 

Always  recurring ;  and,  far  worse,  the  pang 

Of  consciousness  of  black  sins  sinned  in  vain  — 

The  doom  of  constant  failure. 

Will,  fierce  Will ! 
Thou  parent  of  unrest  and  toil  and  woe, 
Measureless  effort  !  growing  day  by  day 
To  force  strong  souls  along  the  giddy  steep 
That  slopes  to  the  pit  of  Hell,  where  effort  serves 
Only  to  speed  destruction  !     Yet  I  know 
Thou  art  not,  as  some  hold,  the  primal  curse 
Which  doth  condemn  us;  since  thou  bearest  in  thee 
No  power  to  satisfy  thj-self ;  but  rather, 
The  spring  of  act,  whereby  in  earth  and  heaven 
Both  men  and  gods  do  breathe  and  live  and  are. 
Since  Life  is  Act  and  not  to  Do  is  Death  — 
I  do  not  blame  thee :  but  to  work  in  vain 
Is  bitterest  penalty  :  to  find  at  last 
The  soul  all  fouled  with  sin  and  stained  with  blood 
In  vain  ;  ah,  this  is  hell  indeed  —  the  hell 
Of  lost  and  striving  souls  !  " 

Then  as  I  passed 


SIS  YF /I  us.  41 

The  halting  figure  bent  itself  again 

To  the  old  task,  and  up  the  rugged  steep 

Thrust    the    great    rock    with    groanings.       Horror 

chained 
My  parting  footsteps,  like  a  nightmare  dream 
Which  holds  us  that  we  flee  not,  with  wide  eyes 
That  loathe  to  sec,  yet  cannot  choose  but  gaze 
Till  all  be  done.      Slowly,  with  dreadful  toil 
And  struggle  and  strain,  and  bleeding  hands  and 

knees, 
And  more  than  mortal  strength,  against  the  hill 
He  pressed,  the  wretched  one  !  till  with  long  pain 
He  trembled  on  the  summit,  a  gaunt  form. 
With  that  great  rock  above  him,  poised  and  strained, 
Now  gaining,  now  receding,  now  in  act 
To  win  the  summit,  now  borne  down  again. 
And  then  the  inevitable  crash  — the  mass 
Leaping  from  crag  to  crag.      But  ere  it  ceased 
In  dreadful  silence,  and  the  low  groan  came. 
My  limbs  were  loosed  with  one  convulsive  bound  ; 
\  hid  my  face  within  my  hands,  and  fled, 
Surfeit  with  horror. 


42  THE   EPIC   OE  IIADKS. 


Then  it  was  again 
A  woman  whom  I  saw,  pitiless,  stern. 
Bearing  the  brand  of  blood  —  a  lithe  dark  form, 
And  cruel  eyes  which  glared  beneath  the  gems 
Which  argued  her  a  Queen,  and  on  her  side 
An  ancient  stain  of  gore,  which  did  befoul 
Her  royal  robe.      A  murderess  in  thought 
And  dreadful  act,  who  took  within  the  toils 
Her  kingly  Lord,  and  slew  him  of  old  time 
After  burnt  Troy.      I  had  no  time  to  .speak 
When  she  shrieked  thus  : 

"  It  doth  repent  me  noL 
I  would  'twere  yet  to  do,  and  I  would  do  it 
Again  a  thousand  times,  if  the  shed  blood 
Might  for  one  hour  restore  to  me  the  kisses 
Of  my  .4^gisthus.      Oh,  he  was  divine, 
My  hero,  with  the  godlike  locks  and  eyes 
Of  Eros'  self  !     What  boots  it  that  they  prate 
Of  wifely  duty,  love  of  spouse  or  child. 
Honor  or  pity,  when  the  swift  fire  takes 
A  woman's  heart,  and  burns  it  out,  and  leaps 
With  fierce  forked  tongue  around  it,  till  it  lies 


CL  YT^MNESTRA.  43 

In  ashes,  a  dead  heart,  nor  aught  remains 
Of  old  affections,  naught  but  the  new  flame 
Which  is  unquenched  desire  ? 

It  did  not  come, 
IVIy  blessing,  all  at  once,  but  the  slow  fruit 
Of  solitude  and  midnight  loneliness. 
And  weary  waiting  for  the  tardy  news 
Of  taken  Troy.     Long  years  I  sate  alone, 
Widowed,  within  my  palace,  while  my  Lord 
Was  over  seas,  waging  the  accursed  war, 
First  of  the  file  of  Kings.     Year  after  year 
Came  false  report,  or  harder,  no  report 
Of  the  great  fieet.     The  summers  waxed  and  waned. 
The  wintry  surges  smote  the  sounding  shores. 
And  yet  there  came  no  end  of  it.     They  brought 
Now  hopeless  failure,  now  great  victories  ; 
And  all  alike  were  false,  all  but  delay 
And  hope  deferred,  which  cometh  not,  but  breaks 
The  heart  which  suffering  wrings  not. 

So  1  bore 
Long  time  the  solitary  years,  and  sought 
To  solace  the  dull  days  with  motherly  cares 
For  those  my  Lord  had  left  me.      My  lirstborn, 
Iphigeneia,  sailed  at  first  with  him 
Upon  that  fatal  voyage,  but  the  young 


44  'J'l^i'-  /•:/'/c  OF  HADES. 

Orestes  and  Electra  stayed  with  me  — 

Not  dear  as  she  was,  for  the  firstborn  takes 

The  mother's  heart,  and,  with  the  milk  it  draws 

From  the  mother's  virgin  breast,  drains  all  the  love 

It  bore,  ay,  even  tho'  the  sire  be  dear ; 

Much  more,  then,  when  he  is  a  King  indeed, 

Mighty  in  war  and  council,  but  too  high 

To  stoop  to  a  woman's  love.     But  she  was  gone, 

Nor  heard  I  tidings  of  her,  knowing  not 

If  yet  she  walked  the  earth,  nor  if  she  bare 

The  load  of  children,  even  as  I  had  borne 

Her  in  my  opening  girlhood,  when  I  leapt 

From  child  to  Queen,  but  never  loved  the  King. 

Thus  the  slow  years  rolled  onward,  till  at  last 
There  came  a  dreadful  rumor  —  'She  is  dead. 
Thy  daughter,  years  ago.      The  cruel  priests 
Clamored  for  blood ;    the  stern    cold    Kings   stood 

round 
Without  a  tear,  and  he,  her  sire,  with  them. 
To  see  a  virgin  bleed.     They  cut  with  knives 
The  taper  girlish  throat ;  they  watched  the  blood 
Drip  slowly  on  the  sand,  and  the  young  life 
Meek  as  a  lamb  come  to  the  sacrifice 
To  appease  the  angry  gods.'     And  he,  the  King, 


CLYT^MNESTRA.  45 

Her  father,  stood  by  too,  and  saw  them  do  it, 
The  wickedness,  breathing  no  word  of  wrath, 
Till  all  was  done !    The  cowards  !  the  dull  cowards 
I  would  some  black  storm,  bursting  suddenly, 
Had  whelmed   them  and    their  fleets,  ere  yet  they 

dared 
To  waste  an  innocent  life  ! 

I  had  gone  mad, 
I  know  it,  but  for  him,  my  love,  my  dear, 
My  fair  sweet  love.      He  came  to  comfort  me 
With  words  of  friendship,  holding  that  my  Lord 
Was  bound,  perhaps,  to  let  her  die  — '  The  gods 
Were  ofttimes  hard  to  appease  —  or  was  it  indeed 
The  priests  who  asked  it  ?     Were  there  any  gods  ? 
Or  only  phantoms,  creatures  of  the  brain, 
Born  of  the  fears  of  men,  the  greed  of  priests, 
Useful  to  govern  women  ?     Had  he  been 
Lord  of  the  fleet,  not  all  the  soothsayers 
Who  ever  frighted  cowards  should  have  brought 
His  soul   to  such   l^lack  depths.'      I   hearkening  to 

him 
As  'twere  my  own  thought  grown  articulate. 
Found  my  grief  turn  to  hate,  and  hate  to  love  — 
Hate  of  my  Lord,  love  of  the  voice  which  spoke 
Such  dear  and  comfortable  words.     And  thus, 


46  rnE  kpic  of  i/ades. 

Love  to  a  storm  of  ])assion  growing,  swept 
My  wounded  soul  and  dried  my  tears,  as  dries 
The  hot  sirocco  all  the  bitter  pools 
Of  salt  among  the  sand.     I  never  knew 
True  love  before;   I  was  a  child,  no  more. 
When  the  King  cast  his  eyes  on  me.     What  is  it 
To  have  borne  the  weight  of  offspring  'ncatli  the 

zone. 
If  Love  be  not  their  sire;  or  live  long  years 
Of  commerce,  not  of  love?     Better  a  day 
Of  Passion  than  the  long  unlovely  years 
Of  wifely  duty,  when  Love  cometh  not 
To  wake  the  barren  days ! 

And  yet  at  first 
I  hesitated  long,  nor  would  embrace 
The  blessing  that  was  mine.     We  are  hedged  round, 
We  women,  by  such  close-drawn  ordinances, 
Set  round  us  by  our  tyrants,  that  we  fear 
To  overstep  a  hand's  breadth  the  dull  bounds 
Of  custom  ;   but  at  last  Love,  waking  in  me. 
Burst  all  my  chains  asunder,  and  1  lived 
For  naught  but  Love. 

My  son,  the  young  Orestes, 
I  sent  far  off ;  my  girl  Electra  only 
Remained,  too  young  to  doubt  me,  and  I  knew 


CLYTAiMNESTRA.  47 

At  last  what  'twas  to  live. 

So  the  swift  years 
Fleeted  and  found  me  happy,  till  the  dark 
Ill-omened  day  when  Rumor,  thousand-tongued. 
Whispered  of  taken  Troy  ;   and  from  my  dream 
Of  happiness,  sudden  I  woke,  and  knew 
The  coming  retribution.     We  had  grown 
Too  loving  for  concealment,  and  our  tale 
Of  mutual  love  was  bruited  far  and  wide 
Through  Argos.     All  the  gossips  bruited  it. 
And  were  all  tongue  to  tell  it  to  the  King 
When  he  should  come.     And  should  the  cold  proud 

Lord 
I  never  loved,  the  murderer  of  my  girl. 
Come  'twixt  my  love  and  me?     A  swift  resolve 
Flashed  through  me  pondering  on  it:  Love  for  Love 
And  Blood  for  Blood  —  the  simple  golden  rule 
Taught  by  the  elder  gods. 

When  I  had  taken 
My  fixed  resolve,  I  grew  impatient  for  it. 
Counting  the  laggard  days.     Oh,  it  was  sweet 
To  simulate  the  yearning  of  a  wife 
Long  parted  from  her  Lord,  and  mock  the  fools 
Who  dogged  each  look  and  word,  and  but  for  fear 
Had  torn  me  from  my  throne  —  the  pics,  the  jays. 


48  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

The  impotent  chatterers,  who  tliought  by  words 
To  stay  me  in  the  act!     'Twas  sweet  to  mock  them 
And  read  distrust  within  their  eyes,  when  I, 
Knowing  my  purpose,  bade  tliem  cjuick  prepare 
All  fitting  honors  for  the  King,  and  knew 
They  dared  not  disobey  —  oh,  'twas  enough 
To  wing  the  slow-paced  hours. 

But  when  at  last 
I  saw  his  sails  upon  the  verge,  and  then 
The  sea-worn  ship,  and  marked  his  face  grown  old, 
The  body  a  little  bent,  which  was  so  straight, 
The  thin  gray  hairs  which  were  the  raven  locks 
Of  manhood  when  he  went,  I  felt  a  moment 
I  could  not  do  the  deed.     But  when  I  saw 
The  beautiful  sad  woman  come  with  him, 
The  future  in  her  eyes,  and  her  sad  voice 
Proclaim  the  tale  of  doom,  two  thoughts  at  once 
Assailed  me,  bidding  me  despatch  with  a  blow 
Him  and  his  mistress,  making  sure  the  will 
Of  fate,  and  my  revenge. 

Oh,  it  was  strange 
To  see  all  happen  as  we  planned  ;  as  'twere 
Some  drama  oft  rehearsed,  wherein  each  step, 
Each  word,  is  so  prepared,  the  poorest  player 
Knows  his  turn  come  to  do  —  the  solemn  landing  — 


CLYTALMNESTRA.  49 

The  ride  to  the  palace  gate  —  the  courtesies 

Of  welcome  —  the  mute  crowds  without  —  the  bath 

Prepared  within  —  the  precious  circling  folds 

Of  tissue  stretched  around  him,  shutting  out 

The  gaze,  and  folding  helpless  like  a  net 

The  mighty  limbs  —  the  battle-axe  laid  down 

Against  the  wall,  and  I,  his  wife  and  Queen, 

Alone  with  him,  waiting  and  watching  still, 

Till  the  woman  shrieked  without.     Then  with  swift 

step 
I  seized  the  axe,  and  struck  him  as  he  lay 
Helpless,  once,  twice,  and  thrice  —  once  for  my  girl, 
Once  for  my  love,  once  for  the  woman,  and  all 
For  Fate  and  my  Revenge  ! 

He  gave  a  groan, 
Once  only,  as  I  thought  he  might ;  and  then 
No  sound  but  the  quick  gurgling  of  the  blood. 
As  it  flowed  from  him  in  streams,  and  turned  the  pure 
And  limpid  water  of  the  bath  to  red  — 
I  had  not  looked  for  that  —  it  flowed  and  flowed, 
And  seemed  to  madden  me  to  look  on  it, 
Until  my  love  with  hands  bloody  as  mine, 
But  with  the  woman's  blood,  rushed  in,  and  eyes 
Rounded  with  horror ;  and  we  turned  to  go, 
And  left  the  dead  alone. 


50  THE   Erie   OE  HADES. 

But  happiness 
Still  mocked  me,  and  a  doubt  unknown  before 
Came  on  me,  and  amid  the  silken  shows 
And  luxury  of  power  I  seemed  to  see 
Another  answer  to  my  riddle  of  life 
Than  that  I  gave  myself,  and  it  was  '  murder  ; ' 
And  in  my  people's  sullen  mien  and  eyes, 
'  Murder;  '  and  in  the  mirror,  when  I  looked, 
'  Murder'  glared  out,  and  terror  lest  my  son 
Returning,  grown  to  manhood,  should  avenge 
His  father's  blood.     For  somehow,  as  'twould  seem. 
The  gods,  if  gods  there  be,  or  the  stern  Fate 
Which  doth  direct  our  little  lives,  do  filch 
Our  happiness  —  tho'  bright  with  Love's  own  ray. 
There  comes  a  cloud  v/hich  veils  it.     Yet,  indeed. 
My  days  were  happy.     I  repent  me  not ; 
I  would  wade  through  seas  of  blood  to  know  again 
Those  fierce  delights  once  more. 

But  my  young  girl 
Electra,  grown  to  woman,  turned  from  me 
Her  modest  maiden  eyes,  nor  loved  to  set 
Her  kiss  upon  my  cheek,  but,  all  distraught 
With  secret  care,  hid  her  from  all  the  pomps 
And  revelries  which  did  befit  her  youth. 
Walking  alone ;  and  often  at  the  tomb 


w  *^*^ 


CL  YT^MNES  TKA .  5  I 

Of  her  lost  sire  they  found  her,  pouring  out 

Libations  to  the  dead.     And  evermore 

I  did  bethink  me  of  my  son  Orestes, 

Who  now  should  be  a  man  ;  and  yearned  sometimes 

To  see  his  face,  yet  feared  lest  from  his  eyes 

His  father's  soul  should  smite  me. 

•  <       So  I  lived 

Happy  and  yet  unquiet  —  a  stern  voice 
Speaking  of  doom,  which  long  time  softer  notes 
Of  careless  weal,  the  music  which  doth  spring 
From  the  fair  harmonies  of  life  and  love, 
Would  drown  in  their  own  concord.      This  at  times. 
Nay,  day  by  day,  stronger  and  dread  fuller. 
With  dominant  accent,  marred  the  sounds  of  joy 
By  one  prevailing  discord.     So  at  length 
I  came  to  lose  the  Present  in  the  dread 
Of  what  might  come  ;  the  penalty  that  waits 
Upon  successful  sin  ;  who,  having  sinned, 
Had  missed  my  sin's  reward. 

Until  one  day 
I,  looking  from  my  palace  casement,  saw 
A  humble  suppliant,  clad  in  ])ilgrim  garb, 
Approach  the  marble  stair.     A  sudden  throb 
Thrilled  thro'  me,  and  the  mother's  heart  went  forth 
Thro'  all  disguise  of  garb  and  rank  and  years, 


52  THE   Eric   OE  HADES. 

Knowing  my  son.      How  fair  lie  was,  how  tall 

And  vigorous,  my  boy  !     What  strong  straight  limbs 

And  noble  port!      How  beautiful  the  shade 

Of  manhood  on  his  lip  !      I  longed  to  burst 

From  my  chamber  down,  yearning  to  throw  myself 

Upon  his  neck  within  the  palace  court, 

Before  the  guards  —  spurning  my  queenly  rank, 

All  but  my  motherhood.      And  then  a  chill 

Of  doubt  o'erspread  me,  knowing  what  a  gulf 

Fate  set  between  our  lives,  impassable 

As  that  great  gulf  which  yawns  'twixt  life  and  death 

And  'twixt  this  Hell  and  Heaven.     I  shrank  back, 

And  turned  to  think  a  moment,  half  in  fear, 

And  half  in  pain;  dividing  the  swift  mind, 

Yet  all  in  love. 

Then  came  a  cry,  a  groan, 
From  the  inner  court,  the  clash  of  swords,  the  fall 
Of  a  body  on  the  pavement  ;   and  one  cried, 
'  The  King  is  dead,  slain  by  the  young  Orestes, 
Who  Cometh  hither.'     With  the  word,  the  door 
Flew  open,  and  my  son  stood  straight  before  me, 
His  drawn  sword  dripping  blood.     Oh,  he  was  fair 
And  terrible  to  see,  when  from  his  limbs, 
The  suppliant's  mantle  fallen,  left  the  mail 
And  arms  of  a  young  warrior.     Love  and  Hate, 


CL  YTALMXES  TKA .  5  3 

Which  are  the  offspring  of  a  common  sire, 
Strove  for  the  mastery,  till  within  his  eyes 
I  saw  his  father's  ghost  glare  unappeased 
From  out  Love's  casements. 

Then  I  knew  my  fate 
And  his  —  mine  to  be  slain  by  my  son's  hand, 
And  his  to  slay  me,  since  the  Furies  drave 
Our  lives  to  one  destruction  ;  and  I  took 
His  point  within  my  breast. 

But  I  praise  not 
The  selfish,  careless  gods  who  wrecked  our  lives, 
Making  the  King  the  murderer  of  his  girl. 
And  me  his  murderess ;  making  my  son 
The  murderer  of  his  mother  and  her  love  — 
A  mystery  of  blood  !  —  I  curse  them  all, 
The  careless  Forces,  sitting  far  withdrawn 
Upon  the  heights  of  Space,  taking  men's  lives 
For  playthings,  and  deriding  as  in  sport 
Our  happiness  and  woe —  I  curse  them  all. 
We  have  a  right  to  joy ;   we  have  a  right, 
I  say,  as  they  have.      Let  them  stand  confessed 
The  puppets  that  they  are  — too  weak  to  give 
The  good  they  feign  to  love,  since  Fate,  too  strong 
For  them  as  us,  beyond  their  painted  sky, 
Sits  and  deride.s  them,  too.     I  curse  Fate  too, 


54  THE   EPIC  OF  HADES. 

The  deaf  blind  Fury,  taking  human  souls 
And  crushing  them,  as  a  dull  fretful  child 
Crushes  its  toys  and  knows  not  with  what  skill 
Those  feeble  forms  are  feigned. 

I  curse,  I  loathe, 
I  spit  on  them.      It  doth  repent  me  not. 
I  would  'twere  yet  to  do.     I  have  lived  my  life. 
I  have  loved.      See,  there  he  lies  within  the  bath. 
And  thus  I  smite  him  !  thus  !     Didst  hear  him  groan  ? 
Oh,  vengeance,  thou  art  sweet !     What,  living  still } 
Ah  me  !  we  cannot  die  !     Come,  torture  me. 
Ye  Furies  —  for  I  love  not  soothing  words  — 
As  once  ye  did  my  son.     Ye  miserable 
Blind  ministers  of  Hell,  I  do  defy  you  ; 
Not  all  your  torments  can  undo  the  Past 
Of  Passion  and  of  Love  !" 

Even  as  she  spake 
There  came  a  viewless  trouble  in  the  air, 
Which  took  her,  and  a  sweep  of  wings  unseen, 
And   terrible    sounds,  which   swooped  on  her  and 

hushed 
Her  voice,  and  seemed  to  occupy  her  soul 
With  horror  and  despair  ;  and  as  she  passed 
I  marked  her  agonized  eyes. 


THE   EPIC   OF  HADES.  55 


But  as  I  went, 
Full  many  a  dreadful  shape  of  lonely  pain 
I  saw.     What  need  to  tell  them  ?     We  are  filled 
Who  live  to-day  with  a  more  present  sense 
Of  the  great  love  of  God,  than  those  of  old 
Who,  groping  in  the  dawn  of  Knowledge,  saw 
Only  dark  shadows  of  the  Unknown  ;  or  he, 
First-born  of  modern  singers,  who  swept  deep 
His  awful  lyre,  and  woke  the  voice  of  song, 
Dumb  for  long  centuries  of  pain.     We  dread 
To  dwell  on  those  long  agonies  its  sin 
Brings  on  the  offending  soul ;  who  hold  a  creed 
Of  deeper  Pity,  kno.ving  what  chains  of  ill 
Bind  round  our  petty  lives.     Each  phase  of  woe. 
Suffering,  and  torture  which  the  gloomy  thought 
Of  bigots  feigns  for  others  —  all  were  there. 
One  there  was  stretched  upon  a  rolling  wheel, 
Which  was  the  barren  round  of  sense,  which  still 
Returned  uj^on  itself  and  broke  tlie  limbs 
Bound  t(j  it  clay  and  night.      Others  I  .saw 
Doomed,  with  unceasing  toil,  to  fill  the  urns 
Whose  precious  waters  sank  ere  they  could  slake 


56  TIIK   Eric   OF  HADES. 

Their  l)urning  thirst.     Anotlier  shapeless  soul, 
Full  of  revolts  and  hates  and  tyrannous  force, 
The  weight  of  earth,  which  was  its  earth-born  taint, 
Pressed  groaning  down,  while  with  fierce  beak  and 

claw 
The  vulture  of  remorse,  piercing  his  breast. 
Preyed  on  his  heart.      For  others,  overhead, 
Gruat  crags  of  rock  impending  seemed  to  fall, 
But  fell  not  nor  brought  peace.     I  felt  my  soul 
Blunted  with  horrors,  yearning  to  escape 
To  where,  upon  the  limits  of  the  wood. 
Some  scanty  twilight  grew. 

But  ere  I  passed 
From  those  grim  shades  a  deep  voice  sounded  near, 
A  voi(\e  without  a  form. 

"  There  is  an  end 
Of  all  things  that  thou  seest !     There  is  an  end 
Of  Wrong  and  Death  and   Hell !     When  the  long 

wifar 
Of  Time  and  Suffering  has  effaced  the  stain 
Ingrown  upon  the  soul,  and  the  cleansed  spirit. 
Long  sges  floating  on  the  wandering  winds 
Or  rolling  deeps  of  Space,  renews  itself 
And  doth  regain  its  dwelling,  and,  once  more 
Blent  with  the  general  order,  floats  anew 


I 


THE   EPIC   OE  HADES.  5/ 

Upon  the  stream  of  Things, i  and  comes  at  length, 
After  new  deaths,  to  that  dim  waiting-place 
Thou  next  shalt  see,  and  with  the  justified 
White  souls  awaits  the  End  ;  or,  snatched  at  once, 
If  Fate  so  will,  to  the  pure  sphere  itself. 
Lives  and  is  blest,  and  works  the  Eternal  Work 
Whose  name  and  end  is  Love !     There  is  an  end 
Of  Wrong  and  Death  and  Hell!" 

Even  as  I  heard, 
I  passed  from  out  the  shadow  of  Death  and  Pain, 
Crying,  "  There  is  an  end  !  " 

Virgil,  ".^iueid,"  vi.  740. 


END    OF    BOOK    I. 


BOOK     II. 

H  A  D  H  S. 


STATE  N0R"!AL'2'1!00L, 


Then  from  those  dark 
And  dreadful  precincts  passing,  ghostly  fields 
And  voiceless  took  me.      A  faint  twiliglit  veiled 
The  leafless,  shadowy  trees  and  herbless  plains. 
There  stirred  no  breath  of  air  to  wake  to  life 
The  slumbers  of  the  world.     The  sky  above 
Was  one  gray,  changeless  cloud.     There  looked  no 

eye 
Of    Life  from   the  veiled   heavens ;   but  Sleep   and 

Death 
Were  round  me  everywhere.     And  yet  no  fear 
Nor  horror  took  me  here,  where  was  no  ])ain 
Xor  dread,  save  that  strange  tremor  wliicli  assails 
(Jnc  who  in  lii'e"s  hot  noontide  looks  on  death 
And  knows  lie  loo  sliall  die.     Tlie  ghosts  which  rose 
From  every  darkling  copse  sliowed  thin  and  pale  — 
Thinner  and  paler  far  tlian  those  I  left 
In  agony;  even  as  I'ity  seems  to  wear 
A  thinner  form  than  Fear. 

Not  caged  alone 
6i 


62  THE   EPIC   OF  JIADES. 

Like  tliose  the  avenging  Furies  purged  were  these, 
Nor  that  dim  land  as  those  lilack  cavernous  deptlis 
Where  no  hope  comes.     Fair  souls  were  tliey  and 

white 
Wliom  there  I  saw,  waiting  as  we  sliall  wait. 
The  Beatific  End,  but  thin  and  pale 
As  the  young  faith  wliich  made  them ;  touched  a 

httle 
By  the  sad  memories  of  the  earth  ;  made  glad 
A  little  by  past  joys :   no  more  ;  and  wrapt 
In  musing  on  the  brief  play  played  by  them 
Upon  the  lively  earth,  yet  ignorant 
Of  the  long  lapse  of  years,  and  what  had  been 
Since  they  too  breathed  Life's  air,  or  if  they  knew. 
Keeping  some  echo  only;  but  their  pain 
Was  fainter  than  their  joy,  and  a  great  hope 
Like  ours  possessed  them  dimly. 


A/AA'SVAS.  63 


First  I  saw 
A  youth  who  pensive  leaned  against  the  trunk 
Of  a  dark  cypress,  and  an  idle  flute 
Hung  at  his  side.     A  sorrowful  sad  soul, 
Such  as  sometimes  he  knows,  who  meets  the  gaze, 
Mute,  uncomplaining  yet  most  pitiful. 
Of  one  whom  Nature,  by  some  secret  spite, 
Has  maimed  and  left  imperfect ;  or  the  pain 
Which  fills  a  poet's  eyes.     Beneath  his  robe 
I  seemed  to  see  the  scar  of  cruel  stripes. 
Too  hastily  concealed.     Yet  was  he  not 
Wholly  unhappy,  but  from  out  the  core 
Of  suffering  flowed  a  secret  spring  of  joy. 
Which  mocked  the  droughts  of   Fate,  and  left  him 

glad 
And  glorying  in  his  sorrow.      As  I  gazed 
He  raised  his  silent  flute,  and,  half  ashamed. 
Blew  a  soft  note  ;  and  as  I  stayed  awhile, 
I  heard  him  thus  discourse  — 

"  The  flute  is  sweet 
To  gods  and  men,  but  sweeter  far  the  lyre 
And  voice  of  a  true  singer.     Shall  1  fear 


64  THE   EPIC   OF  I/ADES. 

To  tell  of  that  i;rcat  trial,  when  I  strove 
And  IMuubus  conquered?     Naj-,  no  shame  it  is 
To  bow  to  an  immortal  melody; 
But  glory. 

Once  amonj^  the  l'hry,i,nan  hills 
I  lay  a-musing,  —  while  the  silly  sheep 
Wandered  among  the  thyme — -upon  the  bank 
Of  a  clear  mountain  stream,  beneath  the  i)ines, 
Safe  hidden  from  the  noon.     A  dreamy  haze 
Played  on  the  uplands,  but  the  hills  were  clear 
In  sunlight,  and  no  cloud  was  on  the  sky. 
It  was  the  time  when  a  deep  silence  comes 
Upon  the  summer  earth,  and  all  the  birds 
Have  ceased  from  singing,  and  the  world  is  still 
As  midnight,  and  if  any  live  thing  move  — 
Some  fur-clad  creature,  or  cool  gliding  snake  — 
Within  the  pipy  overgrowth  of  weeds, 
The  ear  can  catch  the  rustle,  and  the  trees 
And  earth  and  air  are  listening.     As  I  lay, 
Faintly,  as  in  a  dream,  I  seemed  to  hear 
A  tender  music,  like  the  v4^olian  chords, 
Sound  low  within  the  woodland,  whence  the  stream, 
P'lowed  full,  yet  silent.      Long,  with  ear  to  ground, 
I  hearkened  ;  and  the  sweet  strain,  fuller  grown, 
Rounder  and  clearer  came,  and  danced  along 


A/AA'SVAS.  65 

In  mirthful  measure  now,  and  now  grown  grave 
In  dying  falls,  and  sweeter  and  more  clear, 
Tripping  at  nuptials  and  high  revelry, 
Wailing  at  burials,  rapt  in  soaring  thoughts, 
Chanting  strange  sea-tales  full  of  mystery. 
Touching  all  chords  of  being,  and  life  and  death, 
Now  rose,  now  sank,  and  always  was  divine, 
So  strange  the  music  came. 

Till,  as  I  lay 
Enraptured,  swift  a  sudden  discord  rang. 
And  all  the  sound  grew  still.      A  sudden  flash, 
As  from  a  sunlit  jewel,  fired  the  wood. 
A  noise  of  water  smitten,  and  on  the  hills 
A  fair  white  fleece  of  cloud,  which  swiftly  climbed 
Into  the  farthest  heaven.      Then,  as  I  mused. 
Knowing  a  parting  goddess,  straight  I  saw 
A  sudden  splendor  float  upon  the  stream. 
And  knew  it  for  this  jewelled  flute,  which  paused 
Before  me  on  an  eddy.      It  I  snatched 
Eager,  and  to  my  ardent  lips  I  bore 
The  wonder,  and  behold,  with  the  first  breath  — 
The  first  warm  human  lireath,  the  silent  strains. 
The  half-drowned  notes  which  late  the  goddess  blew, 
Revived,  and  sounded  clearer,  sweeter  far 
Than  mortal  skill  could  make.     So  with  delight 


66  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

I  left  my  Hocks  to  wander  o'er  the  wastes 
Unteiided,  and  the  wolves  and  eagles  seized 
The  tender  lambs,  but  I  was  for  my  art  — 
Nought  else ;    and    though    the    high-pitched    notes 

divine 
Grew  faint,  yet  something  lingered,  and  at  last 
So  sweet  a  note  I  sounded  of  my  skill, 
That  all  the  Phrygian  highlands,  all  the  white 
Hill  villages,  were  fain  to  hear  the  strain. 
Which  the  mad  shepherd  made. 

So,  overbold, 
And  rapt  in  my  new  art,  at  last  I  dared 
To  challenge  Phcebus'  self. 

'Twas  a  fair  day 
When  sudden,  on  the  mountain  side,  I  saw 
A  train  of  fleecy  clouds  in  a  white  band 
Descending.     Down  the  gleaming  pinnacles 
And  difiicult  crags  they  floated,  and  the  arch, 
Drawn  with  its  thousand  rays  against  the  sun. 
Hung  like  a  glory  o'er  them.      Midst  the  pines 
They  clothed  themselves  with  form,  and  straight  I 

knew 
The  immortals.      Young  Apollo,  with  his  lyre, 
Kissed  by  the  sun,  and  all  the  Muses  clad 
In  robes  of  gleaming  white  ;   then  a  great  fear, 


AUA'SVAS.  67 

Yet  mixed  with  joy.  assailed  me,  for  I  knew 
Myself  a  mortal  equalled  with  the  gods. 

Ah  me  !  how  fair  they  were  !  how  fair  and  dread 
In   face   and    form,  they   showed,   when    now   they 

came 
Upon  the  thymy  slope,  and  the  young  god 
Lay  with  his  choir  around  him,  beautiful 
And    hold   as   Youth   and    Dawn !     There   was   no 

cloud 
Upon  the  sky,  nor  any  sound  at  all 
When  I  began  my  strain.      No  coward  fear 
Of  what  might  come  restrained  me ;  but  an  awe 
Of  those  immortal  eyes  and  ears  divine 
Looking  and  listening.     All  the  earth  seemed  full 
Of  ears  for  me  alone  —  the  woods,  the  fields. 
The  hills,  the  skies  were  listening.      Scarce  a  sound 
My  flute  might  make  ;  such  subtle  harmonies 
The  silence  seemed  to  weave  round  nic  and  flout 
The  half  unuttered  thought.     Till  la.st  I  blew, 
As  now,  a  hesitating  note,  and  lo  ! 
The  breath  divine,  lingering  on  mortal  lips. 
Hurried  my  soul  along  to  such  fair  rhymes, 
Sweeter  than  wont,  that  swift  I  knew  my  life 
Rise  up  within  me,  and  expand,  and  all 


68  7y//s    KPIC   OF  I/ADKS. 

The  human,  wliich  so  nearly  is  divine, 
Was  glorified,  and  on  tlie  Muses'  li])s, 
And  in  their  lovely  eves,  I  saw  a  fair 
y\pproval,  and  my  stud  in  me  was  glad. 

For  all  the  strains  I  blew  were  strains  of  love- 
Love  striving,  love  triumphant,  love  that  lies 
Within  beloved  arms,  and  wreathes  his  locks 
With  flowers,  and  lets  the  world  go  by  and  sings 
Unheeding;   and  I  saw  a  kindly  gleam 
Within  the  Muses'  eyes,  who  were  indeed, 
Women,  though  god-like. 

But  upon  the  face 
Of  the  young  Sun-god  only  haughty  scorn 
Sate,  and  he  swiftly  struck  his  golden  lyre. 
And  played  the  Song  of  Life ;   and  lo,  I  knew 
My  strain,  how  earthy  !      Oh,  to  hear  the  young 
Apollo  playing  !   and  the  hidden  cells 
And  chambers  of  the  universe  displayed 
Before  the  charmed  sound  !      I  seemed  to  float 
In  some  enchanted  cave,  where  the  wave  dips 
In  from  the  sunlit  sea,  and  floods  its  depths 
With  reflex  hues  of  heaven.      My  soul  was  rapt 
15y  that  I  heard,  and  dared  to  wish  no  more 
For  victory ;  and  yet  because  the  sound 


MAA'SVAS.  69 

Of  music  that  is  born  of  human  breatli 
Comes  straighter  from  tlie  soul  than  any  strain 
The  hand  alone  can  make ;  therefore  1  knew, 
With  a  mixed  thrill  of  pity  and  delight, 
The  nine  immortal  Sisters  hardly  touched 
By  this  fine  strain  of  music,  as  by  mine, 
And  when  the  high  lay  trembled  to  its  close, 
Still  doubting. 

Then  upon  the  Sun-god's  face 
There  passed  a  cold  proud  smile.     He  swept  his  lyre 
Once  more,  then  laid  it  down,  and  with  clear  voice, 
The  voice  of  godhead,  sang.      Oh,  ecstasy. 
Oh  happiness  of  him  who  once  has  heard 
Apollo  singing!      For  his  ears  the  sound 
Of  grosser  music  dies,  and  all  the  earth 
Is  full  of  subtle  undertones,  which  change 
The  listener  and  transform  him.      As  he  sang — - 
Of  what  I  know  not,  but  the  music  touched 
Each  chord  of  being —  I  felt  my  secret  life 
Stand  open  to  it,  as  tlie  jiarched  earth  yawns 
To  drink  the  summer  rain;   and  at  the  call 
Of  those  refreshing  waters,  all  mv  thought 
.Stir  from  its  dark  and  secret  deptlis,  and  burst 
Into  sweet,  odorous  flowers,  and  from  tlicir  wells 
Deep  call  to  deep,  and  all  the  mystery 


70  THE   J'.r/C   OF  HADES. 

Of  all  that  is,  laid  0]Xmi.      As  he  sang, 

I  saw  the  Nine,  with  lovely  pitying  eyes, 

Sign  '  He  has  conquered.'      Yet  I  fell  no  pang 

Of  fear,  only  deep  joy  that  1  had  heard 

Such  music  while  I  lived,  even  though  it  brought 

Torture  and  death.     For  what  were  it  to  lie 

Sleek,  crowned  with  roses,  drinking  vulgar  praise, 

And  surfeited  with  offerings,  the  dull  gift 

Of    ignorant    hands  —  all     which     I     might    have 

known  — 
To  this  diviner  failure  ?      Godlike  'tis 
To  climb  upon  the  icy  ledge,  and  fall 
Where  other  footsteps  dare  not.      So  I  knew 
My  fate,  and  it  was  near. 

For  to  a  pine 
They  bound  me  willing,  and  with  cruel  stripes 
Tore  me,  and  took  my  life. 

I'ut  from  my  blood 
Was  born  the  stream  of  song,  and  on  its  riow 
My  poor  flute,  to  the  cool  swift  river  borne, 
Floated,  and  thence  adown  a  lordlier  tide 
Into  the  deep,  wide  sea.      I  do  not  blame 
Phoebus,  or  Nature  which  has  set  this  bar 
Betwixt  success  and  failure,  for  I  know 
How  far  high  failure  overleaps  the  bound 


MAKSYAS.  71 

Of  low  successes.      Only  suffering  draws 

The  inner  heart  of  song  and  can  elicit 

The  perfumes  of  the  soul.      'Twere  not  enough 

To  fail,  for  that  were  happiness  to  him 

Who  ever  upward  looks  with  reverent  eye 

And  seeks  but  to  admire.     So,  since  the  race 

Of  bards  soars  highest ;  as  who  seek  to  show 

Our  lives  as  in  a  glass;  therefore  it  comes 

That  suffering  weds  with  song,  from  him  of  old, 

Who  solaced  his  blank  darkness  with  his  verse ; 

Through  all  the  story  of  neglect  and  scorn, 

Necessity,  sheer  hunger,  early  death, 

Which  smite  the  singer  still.      Not  only  those 

Who  hold  clear  accents  of  the  voice  divine 

Are  honorable  —  they  are  blest,  indeed, 

Whate'er  the  world  has  held  —  but  those  who  hear 

Some  fair  faint  echoes,  though  the  crowd  be  deaf. 

And  see  the  white  gods'  garments  on  the  hills. 

Which  the  crowd  sees  not,  though  they  may  not  find 

Fit  music  for  their  visions  ;   they  are  blest, 

Not  pitiable.      Not  from  arrogant  pride 

Nor  over  boldness  fail  they  who  have  striven 

To  tell  what  they  have  heard,  with  voice  too  weak 

For  such  high  message.      More  it  is  than  ease, 

Palace  and  pomp,  honors  and  luxuries, 


72  THE    F.nC    OF  HADES. 

To  have  seen  white  I'resences  upon  tlie  liills, 
To  liave  heard  tlie  voiees  of  the  Mlernal  Clods." 

So  si)ake  he,  and  I  seemed  to  hook  on  liim, 
Wliose  sad  young  eyes  grow  on  us  from  the  Jiage 
Of  his  own  verse  :  wlio  did  himself  to  death  : 
Or  whom  the  dulhird  slew  :  or  whom  the  sea 
Rapt  from  us:  and  T  passed  without  a  word, 
Slow,  grave,  witli  many  musings. 


ANDROMEDA. 


/J 


Then  I  came 
On  one  a  maiden,  meek  with  folded  hands, 
Seated  against  a  rugged  face  of  cUff, 
In  silent  thought.     Anon  she  raised  her  arms, 
Her  gleaming  arms,  above  her  on  the  rock, 
Willi  hands  which  clasped  each  other,  till  she  showed 
As  in  a  statue,  and  her  white  robe  fell 
Down  from  her  maiden  shoulders,  and  I  knew 
The  fair  form  as  it  seemed  chained  to  the  stone 
By  some  invisible  gyves,  and  named  her  name  : 
And  then  she  raised  her  frightened  eyes  to  mine 
As  one  who,  long  expecting  some  great  fear. 
Scarce  sees  deliverance  come.      But  when  she  saw 
Only  a  kindly  glance,  a  softer  look 
Came  in  them,  and  she  answered  to  my  thought 
With  a  sweet  voice  and  low. 

"  I  did  but  muse 
Upon  the  painful  past,  long  dead  and  done. 
Forgetting  I  was  saved. 

The  angry  clouds 
Burst  always  on  the  low  ilat  plains,  and  swept 
The  harvest  to  the  ocean  ;  all  the  land 
Was  wasted.     A  great  serpent  from  the  deep, 


74  7^f^f''  /'./vc:  OF  hapks. 

Liftiiiii;  liis  lu)rril)lc  licad  aliove  their  homes. 
Devoured  tlie  children.      And  the  people  prayed 
In  vain  to  careless  gods. 

On  that  dear  land, 
Which  now  was  turned  into  a  sullen  sea, 
Gazing  in  safety  from  the  stately  towers 
Of  my  sire's  palace,  I,  a  princes.s,  saw, 
Lapt  in  soft  luxury,  within  my  bower. 
The  wreck  of  humble  homes  come  whirling  by. 
The  drowning,  bleating  flocks,  the  bellowing  herds, 
The  grain  scarce  husbanded  by  toiling  hands 
Upon  the  sunlit  plain,  rush  to  the  sea. 
With  floating  corpses.     On  the  rain-swept  hills 
The  remnant  of  the  people  huddled  close, 
Homeless  and  starving.      All  my  being  was  filled 
With  pity  for  them,  and  I  joyed  to  give 
What  food  and  shelter  and  compassionate  hands 
Of  woman  might.      I  took  the  little  ones 
And  clasped  them  shivering  to  the  virgin  breast 
Which  knew  no  other  touch  but  theirs,  and  gave 
Raiment  and  food.      My  sire,  not  stern  to  me. 
Smiled  on  me  as  he  saw.     My  gentle  mother. 
Who  loved  me  with  a  closer  love  than  binds 
A  mother  to  her  son  ;   and  sunned  herself 
In  my  fresh  beauty,  seeing  in  my  young  eyes 


ANDROMEDA.  75 

Her  own  fair  vanished  youth  ;  doted  on  me, 
And  fain  had  kept  my  eyes  from  the  sad  sights 
That  pained  them.      But  my  heart  was  sad  in  me, 
Seeing  the  ineffable  miseries  of  life. 
And  that  mysterious  anger  of  the  gods, 
And  helpless  to  allay  them.     All  in  vain 
Were  prayer  and  supplication,  all  in  vain  , 

The  costly  victims  steamed.     The  vengeful  clouds 
Hid  the  fierce  sky,  and  still  the  ruin  came. 
And  wallowing  his  grim  length  within  the  flood. 
Over  the  ravaged  fields  and  homeless  homes, 
The  dread  sea-monster  raged,  sating  his  jaws 
With  blood  and  rapine. 

Then  to  the  dread  shrine 
Of  Amnion  went  the  priests,  and  reverend  chiefs 
Of  all  the  nation.      White  robed,  at  their  head, 
Went  slow  my  royal  sire.     The  oracle 
Spoke  clear,  not  as  ofttimes  in  words  obscure, 
Amljiguous.      And  as  we  stood  to  meet 
The  suppliants  —  she  who  bare  me,  with  her  head 
Upon  my  neck  —  we  cheerful  and  with  song 
Welcomed  their  swift  return  ;   auguring  well 
From  such  a  quick-sped  mission. 

But  my  sire 
Hid  his  face  from  me,  and  the  crowd  of  priests 


'J 6  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

And  nobles  looked  not  at  us.     And  no  word 

Was  spoken  till  at  last  one  drew  a  scroll 

And  gave  it  to  the  queen,  who  straightway  swooned, 

Having  read  it,  on  my  breast,  and  then  I  saw, 

I  the  young  girl  whose  soft  life  scarcely  knew 

Shadow  of  sorrow,  I  whose  heart  was  full 

01  pity  for  the  rest,  what  doom  was  mine. 

I  think  I  hardly  knew  in  that  dread  hour 
The  fear  that  came  anon  ;   I  was  transformed 
Into  a  champion  of  my  race,  made  strong 
With  a  new  courage,  glorying  to  meet, 
In  all  the  ecstasy  of  sacrifice, 
Death  face  to  face.     Some  god,  I  know  not  who, 
O'erspread  me,  and  despite  my  mother's  tears 
And  my  stern  father's  grief,  I  met  my  fate 
Unshrinking. 

When  the  moon  rose  clear  from  cloud 
Once  more  again  over  the  midnight  sea. 
And  that  vast  watery  plain,  where  were  before 
Hundreds  of  happy  homes,  and  well-tilled  fields, 
And  puqDle  vineyards  ;  from  my  father's  towers 
The  white  procession  went  along  the  paths. 
The  high  cliff  paths,  which  well  I  loved  of  old, 
Among  the  myrtles.     Priests  with  censers  went 


ANDROMEDA.  JJ 

And  offerings,  robed  in  white,  and  round  tlieir  brows 

The  sacred  fillet.      With  his  nobles  walked 

My  sire  with  breaking  heart.      My  mother  clung 

To  me  the  victim,  and  the  young  girls  went 

With  wailing  and  with  tears.     A  solemn  strain 

The  soft  ilutes  sounded,  as  we  went  by  night 

To  a  wild  headland,  rock-based  in  the  sea. 

There  on  a  sea-worn  rock,  upon  the  verge, 
To  some  rude  stanchions,  high  above  my  head, 
They  bound  me.     Out  at  sea,  a  black  reef  rose, 
Washed  by  the  constant  surge,  wherein  a  cave 
Sheltered  deep  down  the  monster.      The  sad  queen 
Would  scarcely  leave  me,  though  the  priests  shrunk 

back 
In  terror.      Last,  torn  from  my  endless  kiss. 
Swooning  they  bore  her  upwards.     All  my  robe 
Fell  from  my  lifted  arms,  and  left  displayed 
The  virgin  treasure  of  my  breasts  ;  and  then 
The  white  j)rocessi()n  through  the  moonlight  streamed 
Upwards,  and  soon  their  soft  fiutes  sounded  low 
Upon  the  high  lawns,  leaving  me  alone. 

There  stood   1  in  the  moonlight,  left  alone 
Against  tlie  sea-worn  rock.      Hardly  I  knew, 


78  7'///'.'    I'.I'IC    or  I/ADKS. 

Seeing  only  tlie  bright  moon  and  summer  sea, 
Wiiicli  gently  heaved  and  surged,  and  kissed  the  ledge 
With  smooth  warm   tides,  what  fate  was  mine.      I 

seemed. 
Soothed  by  the  quiet,  to  be  resting  still 
Within  my  maiden  chamber,  and  to  watch 
The  moonlight  thro'  my  lattice,  then  again 
P'ear  came,  and  then  the  pride  of  sacrifice 
Filled  me,  as  on  the  high  cliff  bvvns  I  heard 
The  wailing  cries,  the  chanted  liturgies, 
And  knew  me  bound  forsaken  to  the  rock, 
And  saw  the  monster-haunted  depths  of  sea. 

So  all  night  long  upon  the  sandy  shores 
I  heard  the  hollow  murmur  of  the  wave. 
And  all  night  long  the  liidden  sea  caves  made 
A  ghostly  echo  ;  and  tiie  sea  birds  mewed 
Around  me ;  once  I  heard  a  mocking  laugh, 
As  of  some  scornful  Nereid  ;  once  the  waters 
Broke  louder  on  the  scarped  reefs,  and  ebbed 
As  if  the  monster  coming  ;  but  again 
He  came  not,  and  the  dead  moon  sank,  and  still 
Only  upon  the  cliffs  tlie  wails,  the  chants. 
And  I  forsaken  on  my  sea-worn  rock. 
And  lo,  the  monster-haunted  depths  of  sea. 


ANDROMEDA.  79 

Till  at  the  dead  dark  hour  before  the  dawn, 
When  sick  men  die,  and  scarcely  fear  itself 
Bore  up  my  weary  eyelids,  a  great  surge 
Burst  on  the  rock,  and  slowly,  as  it  seemed, 
The  sea  sucked  downward  to  its  depths,  laid  bare 
The  hidden  reefs,  and  then  before  my  eyes  — 
Oh,  horrible  !  a  huge  and  loathsome  snake 
Lifted  his  dreadful  crest  and  scaly  side 
Above  the  wave,  in  bulk  and  length  so  large, 
Coil  after  hideous  coil,  that  scarce  the  eye 
Could  measure  its  full  horror ;  the  great  jaws 
Dropped  as  with  gore  ;  the  large  and  furious  eyes 
Were  fired  with  blood  and  lust.     Nearer  he  came, 
And  slowly,  with  a  devilish  glare,  more  near, 
Till  his  hot  fcEtor  choked  me,  and  his  tongue. 
Forked  horribly  within  his  poisonous  jaws. 
Played  lightning-like  around  me.      For  awhile 
I  swooned,  and  when  I  knew  my  life  again. 
Death's  bitterness  was  past. 

Then  with  a  bound 
Leaped  up  the  hot.  red  sun  above  the  sea, 
And  lit  the  horrid  fulgor  of  his  scales, 
And  struck  upon  the  rock ;  and  as  I  turned 
My  head  in  the  last  agony  of  death, 
I  knew  a  brilliant  sunbeam  swiftly  leaping 


80  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

Downward  from  crag  to  crag,  and  felt  new  hope 
Where  all  was  hopeless.      On  the  hills  a  shout 
Of  joy,  and  on  the  rocks  the  ring  of  mail  ; 
And  while  the  liungry  serpent's  gloating  eyes 
Were  fixed  on  me,  a  knight  in  casque  of  gold 
And  blazing  shield,  who  with  his  flashing  blade 
Fell  on  the  monster.     Long  the  conflict  raged, 
Till  all  the  rocks  were  red  with  blood  and  slime, 
And  yet  my  champion  from  those  horrible  jaws 
And  dreadful  coils  was  scatheless.     Zeus  his  sire 
Protected,  and  the  awful  shield  he  bore 
Withered  the  monster's  life  and  left  him  cold. 
Dragging  his  helpless  length  and  grovelling  crest : 
And  o'er  his  glaring  eyes  the  films  of  death 
Crept,  and  his  writhing  flank  and  hiss  of  hate 
The   great  deep    swallowed  down,  and   blood  and 

spume 
Rose  on  the  waves ;  and  a  strange  wailing  cry 
Resounded  o'er  the  waters,  and  the  sea 
Bellowed  within  its  hollow-sounding  caves. 

Then  knew  I,  I  was  saved,  and  with  me  all 
The  people.     From  my  wrists  he  loosed  the  gyves, 
My  hero;  and  within  his  godlike  arms 
Bore  me  by  slippery  rock  and  difficult  path. 


ANDROMEDA.  8 1 

To  where  my  mother  prayed.     There  was  no  need 
To  ask  my  love.     Without  a  spoken  word 
Love  Ht  his  fires  within  me.      My  young  heart 
Went  forth,  Love  calling,  and  I  gave  him  all. 

Dost  thou  then  wonder  that  the  memory 
Of  this  supreme  brief  moment  lingers  still, 
Wliile  all  the  happy  uneventful  years 
Of  wedded  life,  and  all  the  fair  young  growth 
Of  offspring,  and  the  tranquil  later  joys, 
Nay,  even  the  fierce  eventful  fight  which  raged 
When  we  were  wedded,  fade  and  are  deceased. 
Lost  in  the  irrecoverable  past  ? 
Nay,  'tis  not  strange.      Always  the  memory 
Of  overwhelming  perils  or  great  joys 
Avoided  or  enjoyed,  writes  its  own  trace. 
With  such  deep  characters  upon  our  lives. 
That  all  the  rest  are  blotted.     In  this  place. 
Where  is  not  action,  thought,  or  count  of  time, 
It  is  not  weary  as  it  were  on  earth, 
To  dwell  on  these  old  memories.     Time  is  born 
Of  dawns  and  sunsets,  days  that  wax  and  wane 
And  stamp  themselves  upon  the  yielding  face 
Of  fleeting  human  life  ;  but  here  there  is 
Morning  nor  evening,  act  nor  suffering. 


82  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

But  only  one  iinclmnging  Present  holds 

Our  being  suspended.      One  blest  day  indeed, 

Or  centuries  ago  or  yesterday, 

There  came  among  us  one  who  was  Divine, 

Not  as  our  gods,  joyous  and  breathing  strength 

And  careless  life,  but  crowned  with  a  new  crown 

Of  suffering,  and  a  great  light  came  with  him. 

And  with  him  he  brought  Time  and  a  new  sense 

Of  dim,  long-vanished  years ;  and  since  he  passed 

I  seem  to  see  new  meaning  in  my  fate. 

And  all  the  deeds  1  tell  of.      Evermore 

The  young  life  comes,  bound  to  the  cruel  rocks 

Alone.      Before  it  the  unfathomed  sea 

Smiles,  filled  with   monstrous  growths  that  wait  to 

take 
Its  innocence.     Far  off  the  voice  and  hand 
Of  love  kneel  by  in  agony,  and  entreat 
The  seeming  careless  gods.     Still  when  the  deep 
Is  smoothest,  lo,  the  deadly  fangs  and  coils 
Lurk  near,  to  smite  with  death.     And  o'er  the  crags 
Of  duty,  like  a  sudden  sunbeam,  springs 
Some  golden  soul  half  mortal,  half  divine. 
Heaven-sent,  and  breaks  the  chain  ;  and  evermore 
For  sacrifice  they  die,  through  sacrifice 
They  live,  and  are  for  others,  and  no  grief  . 


ANDROMEDA.  83. 

Which  smites  the  humblest  but  reverberates 
Thro'  all  the  close-set  files  of  life,  and  takes 
The  princely  soul  that  from  its  royal  towers 
Looks  down  and  sees  the  sorrow. 

Sir,  farewell  ! 
If  thou  shouldst  meet  my  children  on  the  earth 
Or  here,  for  maybe  it  is  long  ago 
Since  I  and  they  were  living,  say  to  them 
I  only  muse  a  little  here,  and  wait 
The  waking." 

And  her  lifted  arms  sank  down 
Upon  her  knees,  and  as  I  passed  I  saw  her 
Gazing  with  soft  rapt  eyes,  and  on  her  lips 
A  smile  as  of  a  saint. 


84  TIIK   KriC   OF  JIADKS. 


And  then  I  saw 
A  manly  hunter  pace  along  the  lea, 
His  bow  upon  his  shoulder,  and  his  spear 
Poised  idly  in  his  hand  :   the  face  and  form 
Of  vigorous  youth  ;  but  in  the  full  brown  eyes 
A  timorous  gaze  as  of  a  hunted  hart, 
Brute-like,  yet  human  still,  even  as  the  Faun 
Of  old,  the  dumb  brute  passing  into  man, 
And  dowered  with  double  nature.     As  he  came 
I  seemed  to  question  of  his  fate,  and  he 
Answered  me  tluis  : 

"  'Twas  one  hot  afternoon 
That  I,  a  hunter,  wearied  with  my  day, 
Heard  my  hounds  baying  fainter  on  the  hills. 
Led  by  the  flying  hart ;   and  when  the  sound 
Faded  and  all  was  still,  I  turned  to  seek, 
O'ercome  by  heat  and  thirst,  a  little  glade. 
Beloved  of  old,  where,  in  the  shadowy  wood, 
The  clear  cold  crystal  of  a  mossy  pool 
Lipped  the  soft  emerald  marge,  and  gave  again 
The  flower-starred  lawn  where  ofttimes  overspent 
I  lay  upon  the  grass  and  careless  bathed 


ACr^EON.  85 

My  limbs  in  the  sweet  lymph. 

But  as  I  neared 
The  hollow,  sudden  through  the  leaves  I  saw 
A  throng  of  wood-nymphs  fair,  sporting  undraped 
Round  one,  a  goddess.      She  with  timid  hand 
Loosened  her  zone,  and  glancing  round  let  fall 
Her  robe  from  neck  and  bosom,  pure  and  bright, 
(For  it  was  Dian"s  self  I  saw,  none  else) 
As  when  she  frees  her  from  a  fleece  of  cloud 
And  swims  along  the  deep  blue  sea  of  heaven 
On  sweet  June  nights.     Silent  awhile  I  stood, 
Rooted  with  awe,  and  fain  had  turned  to  fly. 
But  feared  by  careless  footstep  to  affright 
Those  chaste  cold  eyes.     Great  awe  and  reverence 
Held  me,  and  fear ;  then  Love  with  passing  wing 
Fanned   me,   and   held    my  eyes,   and   checked   my 

breath. 
Signing  '  Beware  ! ' 

So  for  a  time  I  watched, 
Breathless  as  one  a  brooding  nightmare  holds. 
Who  fleeth  some  great  fear,  yet  fleeth  not; 
Till  the  last  flutter  of  lawn,  and  veil  no  more 
Obscured,  and  all  the  beauty  of  my  dreams 
Assailed  my  sense.      But  ere  I  raised  my  eyes. 
As  one  who  fain  would  look  and  see  the  sun. 


86  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

The  first  glance  dazed  my  brain.      Only  I  knew 
The  perfect  outline  How  in  tender  curves, 
To  break  in  doubled  charms  ;  only  a  haze 
Of  creamy  white,  dimple,  and  deep  divine : 
And  then  no  more.      For  lo  !   a  sudden  chill. 
And  such  thick  mist  as  shuts  the  hills  at  eve. 
Oppressed  me  gazing ;   and  a  heaven-sent  shame. 
An  awe,  a  fear,  a  reverence  for  the  unknown, 
Froze  all  the  springs  of  will  and  left  me  cold. 
And  blinded  all  the  longings  of  my  eyes. 
Leaving  such  dim  reflection  still  as  mocks 
Him  who  has  looked  on  a  great  light,  and  keeps 
On  his  closed  eyes  the  image.      Presently, 
My  fainting  soul,  safe  hidden  for  awhile 
Deep  in  Life's  mystic  shades,  renewed  herself. 
And  straight,  the  innocent  brute  within  the  man 
Bore  on  me,  and  with  half-averted  eye 
I  gazed  upon  the  secret. 

As  I  looked, 
A  radiance,  white  as  beamed  the  frosty  moon 
On  the  mad  boy  and  slew  him,  beamed  on  me ; 
Made  chill  my  pulses,  checked  my  life  and  heat ; 
Transformed  me,  withered  all  my  soul,  and  left 
My  being  burnt  out.     For  lo !  the  dreadful  eyes 
Of  Godhead  met  my  gaze,  and  through  the  mask 


ACTION.  Sj 

And  thick  disguise  of  sense,  as  through  a  wood, 

Pierced  to  my  life.     Then  suddenly  I  knew 

An  altered  nature,  touched  by  no  desire 

For  that  which  showed  so  lovely,  but  declined 

To  lower  levels.      Nought  of  fear  or  awe. 

Nothing  of  love  was  mine.     Wide-eyed  I  gazed. 

But  saw  no  spiritual  beam  to  blight 

My  brain  with  too  much  beauty,  no  undraped 

And  awful  majesty;  only  a  brute. 

Dumb  charm,  like  that  which  draws  the  brute  to  it, 

Unknowmg  it  is  drawn.     So  gradually 

I  knew  a  dull  content  o'ercloud  my  sense. 

And  unabashed  I  gazed,  like  that  dumb  bird 

Which  thinks  no  thought  and  speaks  no  word,  yet 

fronts 
The  sun  that  blintled  Homer  —  all  my  ffear 
Sunk  willi  my  shame,  in  a  base  liappiness. 

But  as  I  gazed,  and  careless  turned  and  passed 
Through  the  thick  wood,  forgetting  what  had  been, 
And  thinking  thoughts  no  longer,  swift  there  came 
A  mortal  terror :   voices  that  1  knew. 
My  own  liounds'  bayings  that  I  loved  before, 
As  with  them  often  o'er  the  jiurple  hills 
I  chased  the  flying  hart  from  slope  to  slope, 


88  THE    EPIC    OF  IIADKS. 

Before  the  slow  sun  climbed  the  I^astern  peaks, 
Until  the  swift  sun  smote  the  Western  plain ; 
Whom  often  I  had  cheered  by  voice  and  glance, 
Whom  often  I  had  checked  with  hand  and  thong  ; 
Grim  followers,  like  the  passions,  firing  me  ; 
True  servants,  like  the  strong  nerves,  urging  me 
On  many  a  fruitless  chase,  to  find  and  take 
Some  too  swift-fleeting  beauty;  faithful  feet 
And  tongues,  obedient  always :  these  I  knew, 
Clothed  with  a  new-born  force  and  vaster  grown, 
And  stronger  than  their  master  ;   and  I  thought. 
What  if  they  tare  me  with  their  jaws,  nor  knew 
That  once  I  ruled  them,  —  brute  pursuing  brute. 
And  I  the  quarry  ?     Then  I  turned  and  fled,  — 
If  it  was  I  indeed  that  feared  and  fled  — 
Down  the  long  glades,  and  thro'  the  tangled  brakes. 
Where  scarce  the  sunlight  pierced  ;  fled  on  and  on, 
And  panted,  self-pursued.      But  evermore 
The  dissonant  music  which  I  knew  so  sweet, 
When  by  the  windy  hills,  the  echoing  vales. 
And  whispering  pines  it  rang;  now  far,  now  near. 
As  from  my  rushing  steed  I  leant  and  cheered 
With  voice  and  horn  the  chase,  this  brought  to  me 
Fear  of  I  knew  not  what,  which  bade  me  fly. 
Fly  always,  fly ;  but  when  my  heart  stood  still. 


ACTALOJV.  89 

And  all  my  limbs  were  stiffened  as  I  fled, 

Just  as  the  white  moon  ghost-like  climbed  the  sky. 

Nearer  they  came  and  nearer,  baying  loud, 

With  bloodshot  eyes  and  red  jaws  dripping  foam ; 

And  when  I  strove  to  check  their  savagery, 

Speaking  with  words  ;   no  voice  articulate  came, 

Only  a  dumb,  low  bleat.     Then  all  the  throng 

Leapt  swift  on  me,  and  tare  me  as  I  lay. 

And  left  me  man  again. 

Wherefore  I  walk 
Along  these  dim  fields  peopled  with  the  ghosts 
Of  heroes  who  have  left  the  ways  of  earth 
For  this  faint  ghost  of  them.      Sometimes  I  think, 
Pondering  on  what  has  been,  that  all  my  days 
Were  shadows,  all  my  life  an  allegory ; 
And,  though  I  know  sometimes  some  fainter  gleam 
Of  the  old  beauty  move  me,  and  sometimes 
Some  beat  of  the  old  pulses  ;  tliat  my  fate, 
For  ever  hurrying  on  in  hot  piu'suit, 
To  fall  at  length  self-slain,  was  but  a  talc 
Writ  large  by  Zeus  upon  a  mortal  life. 
Writ  large,  and  yet  a  riddle.      For  sometimes 
I  read  its  meaning  thus:   Life  is  a  chase. 
And  Man  the  hunter,  always  following  on, 
With  hounds  of  rushing  thought  or  fiery  sense. 


go  THE   EPIC   OE  JIADES. 

Some  hidden  truth  or  beauty,  fleeting  still 

For  ever  through  the  thick-leaved  coverts  deep 

And  wind-worn  wolds  of  time.      And  if  he  turn 

A  moment  from  the  hot  jiursuit  to  seize 

Some    chance-brought    sweetness,    other    than    the 

search 
To  which  his  soul  is  set,  —  some  dalliance, 
Some  outward  shape  of  Art,  some  lower  love, 
Some    charm    of    wealth    and    sleek    content    and 

home,  — 
Then,  if  he  check  an  instant,  the  swift  chase 
Of  fierce  untempered  energies  which  pursue. 
With  jaws  unsated  and  athirst  for  life, 
Bears  down  on  him  relentless,  and  o'erwhelms 
His  prize  and  him  in  ruin. 

And  sometimes 
I  seem  to  myself  a  thinker,  who  at  last. 
Amid  the  chase  and  capture  of  low  ends. 
Pausing  by  some  cold  well  of  hidden  thought 
Comes  on  some  perfect  truth,  and  looks  and  looks 
Till  the  fair  vision  blinds  him.     And  the  sum 
Of  all  his  lower  self  pursuing  him, 
The  strong  brute  forces,  the  unchecked  desires, 
Finding  him  bound  and  speechless,  deem  him  now 
No  more  their  master,  but  some  soulless  thing; 


ACT^EON. 


91 


And  leap  on  him,  and  seize  him,  and  possess 
His  life,  till  through  death's  gate  he  pass  to  life, 
And,  his  own  ghost,  revives.      But  looks  no  more 
Upon  the  truth  unveiled,  but  through  a  cloud 
Of  creed  and  faith  and  longing,  which  shall  change 
One  day  to  perfect  knowledge. 

But  whoe'er 
Shall  read  the  riddle  of  my  life,  I  walk 
In  this  dim  land  amid  dim  ghosts  of  kings. 
As  one  day  tliou  shalt;  meantime,  fare  thou  well." 


92  THE   EPIC   OE  J/ADES. 


Then  passed  he;  and  I  marked  him  slowly  go 
Along  the  winding  ways  of  that  weird  land, 
And  vanish  in  a  wood. 


And  next  I  knew 
A  woman  perfect  as  a  young  man's  dream, 
And  breathing  as  it  seemed  the  old  sweet  air 
Of  the  fair  days  of  old,  when  man  was  young 
And  life  an  Epic.     Round  the  lips  a  smile 
Subtle  and  deep  and  sweet  as  hers  who  looks 
From  the  old  painter's  canvas,  and  derides 
Life  and  the  riddle  of  things,  the  aimless  strife, 
The  folly  of  Love,  as  who  has  proved  it  all, 
Enjoyed  and  suffered.      In  the  lovely  eyes 
A  weary  look,  no  other  than  the  gaze 
Which  ofttimes  as  the  rapid  chariot  whirls, 
And  ofttimes  by  the  glaring  midnight  streets, 
Gleams  out  and  chills   our  thought.     And  yet  not 

guilt 
Nor  sorrow  was  it ;  only  weariness. 
No  more,  and  still  most  lovely.     As  I  named 


HELEN.  93 

Her  name  in  haste,  she  looked  with  half  surprise, 
And  thus  she  seemed  to  speak. 

"  What  ?     Dost  thou  know, 
Thou  too,  the  fatal  glances  which  beguiled 
Those    strong  rude  chiefs   of    old  ?      Has   not   the 

gloom 
Of  this  dim  land  withdrawn  from  out  mine  eyes 
The  glamour  which  once  filled   them  ?     Does  my 

cheek 
Retain  the  round  of  youth  and  still  defy 
The  wear  of  immemorial  centuries  ? 
And  this  low  voice,  long  silent,  keeps  it  still 
The  music  of  old  time?     Aye,  in  thine  eyes 
I  read  it,  and  within  thine  eyes  I  see 
Thou  knowest  me,  and  the  story  of  my  life 
Sung  by  the  blind  old  bard  when  I  was  dead, 
And  all  my  lovers  dust.      I  know  tliee  not, 
Thee  nor  thy  gods,  yet  would  I  sootlily  swear 
I  was  not  all  to  blame  for  what  has  been. 
The  long  fight,  the  swift  death,  the  woes,  the  tears, 
The  brave  lives  spent,  the  humble  homes  uptorn 
To  gain  ono  poor  fair  face.      It  was  not  I 
That  curved  these  lips  into  this  subtle  smile, 
Or  gave  these  eyes  tht-ir  fire,  nor  yet  made  round 
This  supple  framj.      It  was  not  I,  but  Love, 


94  -I'^lJ-'-    ^-VVC   UF  HADES. 

Love  mirroring  himself  in  all  tilings  fair, 
Love  that  projects  himself  ui)on  a  life, 
And  dotes  on  his  own  image. 

Ah  !   the  days, 
The  weary  years  of  Love  and  feasts  and  gold. 
The  hurried  llights,  the  din  of  clattering  hoofs 
At  midnight,  when  the  heroes  dared  for  me. 
And  bore  me  o'er  the  hills ;  the  swift  pursuits 
Baflfied  and  lost ;  or  when  from  isle  to  isle 
The  high-oared  galley  spread  its  wings  and  rose 
Over  the  swelling  surges,  and  1  saw, 
Time  after  time,  the  scarce  familiar  town. 
The  sharp-cut  hills,  the  well-loved  palaces, 
The  gleaming  temples  fade,  and  all  for  me, 
Me  the  dead  prize,  the  shell,  the  soulless  ghost. 
The  husk  of  a  true  woman;  the  fond  words 
Wasted  on  careless  ears,  that  seemed  to  hear. 
Of  love  to  me  unloving ;   the  rich  feasts, 
The  silken  dalliance  and  soft  luxury, 
The  fair  observance  and  high  reverence 
For  me  who  cared  not,  to  whatever  land 
My  kingly  lover  snatched  me.      I  have  known 
How  small  a  fence  Love  sets  between  the  king 
And  the  strong  hind,  who  breeds  his  brood,  and  dies 
Upon  tlTfe  field  he  tills.     I  have  exchanged 


HELEN.  95 

People  for  people,  crown  for  glittering  crown, 
Through  every  change  a  queen,  and  held  my  state 
Hateful,  and  sickened  in  my  soul  to  lie 
Stretched  on  soft  cushions  to  the  lutes'  low  sound, 
While  on  the  wasted  fields  the  clang  of  arms 
Rang,  and  the  foemen  perished,  and  swift  death. 
Hunger,  and  plague,  and  every  phase  of  woe 
Vexed  all  the  land  for  me.      I  have  heard  the  curse 
Unspoken,  when  the  wife  widowed  for  me 
Clasped  to  her  heart  her  orphans  starved  for  me; 
As  I  swept  proudly  by.      I  have  prayed  the  god.s. 
Hating  my  own  fair  face  which  wrought  such  woe, 
Some  plague  divine  might  light  on  it  and  leave 
My  curse  a  ruin.     Yet  I  think  indeed 
They  had  not  cursed  but  pitied,  those  true  wives 
Who  mourned  tlicir  humble  lords,  and  straining  felt 
The  innocent  thrill  which  swells  the  mother's  heart 
Who  clasps  her  growing  boy;  had  they  but  known 
The  lifeless  life,  the  pain  of  hypocrite  smiles, 
The  dead  load  of  caresses  simulated, 
When  Love  stands  shuddering  by  to  see  his  fires 
Lit  for  the  shrine  of  gold.     What  if  they  felt 
The  weariness  of  loveless  love  which  grew 
And  through  the  jealous  palace  portals  seized 
The  caged  unloving  woman,  sick  of  toys, 


96  THE   EPIC   OF  II A  PES. 

Sick  of  her  gilded  cliains,  her  ease,  herself, 

Till  for  sheer  weariness  she  flew  to  meet 

Some  new  unloved  seducer?     What  if  they  knew 

No  childish  loving  hands,  or  worse  than  all, 

Had  borne  them  sullen  to  a  sire  unloved. 

And  left  them  without  pain  ?     I  might  have  been, 

I  too,  a  loving  mother  and  chaste  wife, 

Had  Fate  so  willed. 

For  I  remember  well 
How  one  day  straying  from  my  father's  halls 
Seeking  anemones  and  violets, 

A  girl  in  Spring-time,  when  the  heart  makes  Spring 
Within  the  budding  bosom,  that  I  came 
Of  a  sudden  through  a  wood  upon  a  bay, 
A  little  sunny  land-locked  bay,  whose  banks 
-Sloped  gently  downward  to  the  yellow  sand. 
Where  the  blue  wave  creamed  soft  with  fairy  foam 
And  oft  the  Nereids  sported.     As  I  strayed 
Singing,  with  fresh-pulled  violets  in  my  hair 
And  bosom,  and  my  hands  were  full  of  flowers, 
I  came  upon  a  little  milk-white  lamb, 
And  took  it  in  my  arms  and  fondled  it, 
And  wreathed  its  neck  with  flowers,  and  sang  to  it 
And  kissed  it,  and  the  Spring  was  in  my  life, 
And  I  was  glad. 


w  *s^ 


HELEN.  97 

And  when  I  raised  my  eyes, 
Behold,  a  youthful  shepherd  with  his  crook 
Stood  by  me  and  regarded  as  I  lay, 
Tall,  fair,  with  clustering  curls,  and  front  that  wore 
A  budding  manhood.     As  I  looked  a  fear 
Came  o'er  me,  lest  he  were  some  youthful  god 
Disguised  in  shape  of  man,  so  fair  he  was ; 
But  when  he  spoke,  the  kindly  face  was  full 
Of  manhood,  and  the  large  eyes  full  of  fire 
Drew  me  without  a  word,  and  all  the  flowers 
Fell  from  me,  and  the  little  milk-white  lamb 
Strayed    through   the  brake,   and    took  with   it   the 

white 
Fair  years  of  childhood.      Time  fulfilled  my  being 
With  passion  like  a  cup,  and  with  one  kiss 
Left  me  a  woman. 

Ah  !  the  lovely  days, 
When  on  the  warm  bank  crowned  witii  flowerswe  sate 
And  thought  no  harm,  and  his  thin  reed  pipe  made 
Low  music,  and  no  witness  of  our  love 
Intruded,  but  the  tinkle  of  the  flock 
Came  from  the  hill,  and  'neatli  the  odorous  shade 
We  dreamed  away  the  day,  and  watched  the  waves 
Steal  shoreward,  and  beyond  the  sylvan  capes 
The  innumerable  laughter  of  the  sea  ! 


98  THE   EPrC   OF  HADES. 

Ah  youth  and  love  !     So  passed  the  happy  days 
Till  twilight,  and  I  stole  as  in  a  dream 
Homeward,  and  lived  as  in  a  happy  dream, 
And  when  they  spoke  answered  as  in  a  dream, 
And  through  the  darkness  saw,  as  in  a  glass. 
The  happy,  happy  day,  and  thrilled  and  glowed 
And  kept  my  love  in  sleep,  and  longed  for  dawn, 
And  scarcely  stayed  for  hunger,  and  with  morn 
Stole  eager  to  the  little  wood,  and  fed 
My  life  with  kisses.     Ah  !  the  joyous  days 
Of  innocence,  when  Love  was  Queen  in  heaven, 
And  nature  unreproved !     Break  they  then  still, 
Those  azure  circles,  on  a  golden  shore  ? 
Smiles  there  no  glade  upon  the  older  earth 
Where  spite  of  all,  gray  wisdom,  and  new  gods, 
Young  lovers  dream  within  each  other's  arms 
Silent,  by  shadowy  grove,  or  sunlit  sea  ? 

Ah  days  too  fair  to  last !     There  came  a  night 
When  I  lay  longing  for  my  love,  and  knew 
Sudden  the  clang  of  hoofs,  the  broken  doors, 
The  clash  of  swords,  the  shouts,  the  groans,  the  stain 
Of  red  upon  the  marble,  the  fixed  gaze 
Of  dead  and  dying  eyes,  —that  was  the  time 
When  first  I  looked  on  death,  —  and  when  I  woke 


HELEN.  99 

From  my  deep  swoon,  I  felt  the  night  air  cool 
Upon  my  brow,  and  the  cold  stars  look  down, 
As  swift  we  galloped  o'er  the  darkling  plain; 
And  saw  the  chill  sea  glimpses  slowly  wake, 
With  arms  unknown  around  me.     When  the  dawn 
Broke  swift,  we  panted  on  the  pathless  steeps, 
And  so  by  plain  and  mountain  till  we  came 
To  Athens,  where  they  kept  me  till  I  grew 
Fairer  with  every  year,  and  many  wooed. 
Heroes  and  chieftains,  but  I  loved  not  one. 

And  then   the   avengers   came  and   snatched   me 
back 
To  Sparta.     All  the  dark  high-crested  chiefs 
Of  Argos  wooed  me,  striving  king  with  king 
For  one  fair  foolish  face,  nor  knew  I  kept 
No  heart  to  give  them.     Yet  since  I  was  grown 
Weary  of  honeyed  words  and  suit  of  love, 
I  wedded  a  brave  chief,  dauntless  and  true. 
But  what  cared  I  ?     I  could  not  prize  at  all 
His  honest  service.     I  had  grown  so  tired 
Of  loving  and  of  love,  that  when  they  brought 
News  that  the  fairest  shepherd  on  the  hills. 
Having  done  himself  to  death  for  his  lost  love, 
Lay,  like  a  lovely  statue,  cold  and  white 


ICX5  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

Upon  the  golden  sand,  I  hardly  knew 

More  than  a  passing  pang.      Love,  like  a  flower, 

Love,  springing  up  too  tall  in  a  young  breast, 

The  growth  of  morning.  Life's  too  scorching  sun 

Had  withered  long  ere  noon.      Love,  like  a  ilame 

On  his  own  altar  offering  up  my  heart. 

Had  burnt  my  being  to  ashes. 

Was  it  love 
That  drew  me  then  to  Paris  ?     He  was  fair, 
I  grant  you,  fairer  than  a  summer  morn, 
Fair  with  a  woman's  fairness,  yet  in  arms 
A  hero,  but  he  never  had  my  heart, 
Not  love  for  him  allured  me,  but  the  thirst 
For  freedom,  if  in  more  than  thought  I  erred, 
And  was  not  rapt  but  willing.      For  my  child. 
Lorn  to  an  unloved  father,  loved  me  not. 
The  fresh  sea  called,  the  galleys  plunged,  and  I 
Fled  willing  from  my  prison  and  the  pain 
Of  undesired  caresses,  and  the  wind 
Was  fair,  and  on  the  third  day  as  we  sailed, 
My  heart  was  glad  within  me  when  I  saw 
The  towers  of  Ilium  rise  beyond  the  wave. 

Ah,  the  long  years,  the  melancholy  years, 
The  miserable  melancholy  years  ! 


HELEN.  lOI 

For  soon  the  new  grew  old,  and  then  I  grew 
Weary  of  him,  of  all,  of  pomp  and  state 
And  novel  splendor.     Yet  at  times  I  knew 
Some  thrill  of  pride  within  me  as  I  saw 
From  those  high  walls,  a  prisoner  and  a  foe, 
The  swift  ships  flock  at  anchor  in  the  bay, 
The  hasty  landing  and  the  flash  of  arms, 
The  lines  of  royal  tents  upon  the  plain. 
The  close-shut  gates,  the  chivalry  within 
Issuing  in  all  its  pride  to  meet  the  shock 
Of  the  bold  chiefs  without ;  so  year  by  year 
The  haughty  challenge  from  the  warring  hosts 
Rang  forth,  and  I  with  a  divided  heart 
Saw  victory  incline,  now  here,  now  there. 
And  helpless  marked  the  Argive  chiefs  I  knew, 
The  spouse  I  left,  the  princely  loves  of  old. 
Now  with  each  other  strive,  and  now  with  Troy: 
The  brave  pomp  of  the  morn,  the  fair  strong  limbs, 
The  glittering  panoply,  the  bold  young  hearts, 
Athirst  for  fame  of  war,  and  with  the  night 
The  broken  spear,  the  shattered  helm,  the  plume 
Dyed  red  with  blood,  the  ghastly  dying  face. 
And  nerveless  liml:)s  laid  lifeless.     And  I  knew 
The  stainless  Hector  whom  I  could  have  loved, 
But  that  a  happy  love  made  blind  his  eyes 


I02  THE   EPIC   OE  IIAEES. 

To  all  mj  baleful  beauty;  fallen  and  dragged 

His  noble,  manly  head  upon  the  sand 

By  young  Achilles'  chariot ;  him  in  turn 

Fallen  and  slain  ;   my  fair  false  Paris  slain  ; 

Plague,  famine,  battle,  raging  now  within. 

And  now  without,  for  many  a  weary  year, 

Summer  and  winter,  till  I  loathed  to  live, 

Who  was  indeed,  as  well  they  said,  the  Hell 

Of  men,  and  fleets,  and  cities.     As  I  stood 

Upon  the  walls,  ofttimes  a  longing  came. 

Looking  on  rage,  and  fight,  and  blood,  and  death, 

To  end  it  all,  and  dash  me  down  and  die; 

But  no  god  helped  me.     Nay,  one  day  I  mind 

I  would  entreat  them.     '  Pray  you,  lords,  be  men. 

What  fatal  charm  is  this  which  Atd  gives 

To  one  poor  foolish  face  ?     Be  strong,  and  turn 

In  peace,  forget  this  glamour,  get  you  home 

With  all  your  fleets  and  armies,  to  the  land 

I  love  no  longer,  where  your  faithful  wives 

Pine  widowed  of  their  lords,  and  your  young  boys 

Grow  wild  to  manhood.     I  have  nought  to  give, 

No  heart,  nor  prize  of  love  for  any  man, 

Nor  recompense.     I  am  the  ghost  alone 

Of  the  fair  girl  ye  knew  ;  she  still  abides,  ^ 

If  she  still  lives  and  is  not  wholly  dead, 


HELEN.  103 

Stretched  on  a  flowery  bank  upon  the  sea 
In  fair  heroic  Argos.      Leave  this  form 
That  is  no  other  than  the  outward  shell 
Of  a  once  loving  woman.' 

As  I  spake, 
l\Iy  pity  fired  my  eyes  and  flushed  my  cheek 
With  some  soft  charm ;  and  as  I  spread  my  hands, 
The  purple,  glancing  down  a  little,  left 
The  marble  of  my  breasts  and  one  pink  bud 
Upon  the  gleaming  snows.     And  as  I  looked 
With  a  mixed  pride  and  terror,  I  beheld 
The  brute  rise  up  within  them,  and  my  words 
Fall  barren  on  them.      So  I  sat  apart. 
Nor  ever  more  looked  forth,  while  every  day 
Brought  its  own  woe. 

The  melancholy  years. 
The  miserable  melancholy  years. 
Crept  onward  till  the  midnight  terror  came, 
And  by  the  glare  of  burning  streets  I  saw 
Palace  and  temple  reel  in  ruin  and  fall, 
And  the  long-baffled  legions,  bursting  in 
By  gate  and  bastion,  blunted  sword  and  spear 
Witii  unresisted  slaughter.      From  my  tower 
I  saw  the  good  old  king;   his  kindly  eyes 
In  agony,  and  all  his  reverend  hairs 


I04  TIIK   Eric   OF  HADES. 

Pabblcd  witli  blood,  as  tlie  fierce  foeman  thrust 
And  stabbed  him  as  he  lay  ;  the  youths,  the  girls, 
Whom  day  by  day  I  knew,  their  silken  ease 
And  royal  luxury  changed  for  blood  and  tears, 
II;-.led    forth    to    death    or    worse.      Then    a    great 

hate 
Of  life  and  fate  seized  on  me,  and  I  rose 
Anc'  rushed  among  them,  crying,  '  See,  'tis  I, 
I  who  have  brought  this  evil!      Kill  me  !  kill 
The  fury  that  is  I,  yet  is  not  I  ! 
And  let  my  soul  go  outward  through  the  wound 
Made  clean  by  blood  to  Hades !     Let  me  die, 
Not  these  who  did  no  wrong  !  '     But  not  a  hand 
Was  raised,  and  all  shrank  backward  as  afraid, 
As  from  a  goddess.      Then  I  swooned  and  fell 
And  kn  'w  no  more,  and  when  I  woke  I  felt 
My  husband's  arms  around  me,  and  the  wind 
Blew  fa'r  for  Greece,  and  the  beaked  galley  plunged  ; 
And  where  the  towers  of  Ilium  rose  of  old, 
A  pall  of  smoke  above  a  glare  of  fire. 

What  then  in  the  near  future  ? 

Ten  long  years 
Bring  youth  and  love  to  that  deep  summer-tide 
When  the  full  noisy  current  of  our  lives 


HELEN.  105 

Creeps  dumb  through  wealth  of  flowers.      I  think  I 

knew 
Somewhat  of  peace  at  last,  with  my  good  Lord 
Who  loved  too  much  to  palter  with  the  past, 
Flushed  with  the  present.      Young  Hermione 
Had  grown  from  child  to  woman.      She  was  wed; 
And  was  not  I  her  mother  ?     At  the  pomp 
Of  solemn  nuptials  and  requited  love, 
I  prayed  she  might  be  happy,  happier  far 
Than  ever  I  was  ;  so  in  tranquil  ease 
I  lived  a  queen  long  time,  and  because  wealth 
And  high  observance  can  make  sweet  our  days 
When  youth's  swift  joy  is  past,  I  did  requite 
With  what  I  might,  not  love,  the  kindly  care 
Of  him  I  loved  not ;   pomps  and  robes  of  price 
And  chariots  held  me.      But  when  Fate  cut  short 
His  life  and  love,  his  sons  who  were  not  mine 
Reigned  in  his  stead,  and  hated  me  and  mine: 
And  knowing  I  was  friendless,  I  sailed  forth 
Once  more  across  the  sea,  seeking  for  rest 
And  shelter.      Still  I  knew  that  in  my  eyes 
Love  dwelt,  and  all  the  baleful  charm  of  old 
Burned  as  of  yore,  scarce  dimmed  as  yet  by  time : 
I  saw  it  in  the  mirror  of  the  sea, 
1  saw  it  in  the  youthful  seamen's  eyes, 


I06  'J UK    KPIC    OF  NADES. 

Ami  was  half  proud  aj^ain  I  liad  such  power 
Who  now  kept  notliing  else.      So  one  calm  eve, 
Behold,  a  sweet  fair  isle  blushed  like  a  rose 
Upon  the  summer  sea :   there  my  swift  ship 
Cast  anchor,  and  tlicy  told  me  it  was  Rhodes. 

There,  in  a  little  wood  above  the  sea. 
Like  that  dear  wood  of  yore,  I  wandered  forth 
Forlorn,  and  all  my  seamen  were  apart, 
And  I,  alone  ;  when  at  the  close  of  day 
I  knew  myself  surrounded  by  strange  churls 
With  angry  eyes,  and  one  who  ordered  them, 
A  woman,  whom  I  knew  not,  but  who  walked 
In  mien  and  garb  a  queen.      She,  with  the  fire 
Of  hate  witiiin  her  eyes,  'Quick,  bind  her,  men! 
I  know  lur;   bind  her  fasti  '      'IMien  to  the  trunk 
Of  a  tall  plane  they  bound  me  with  rude  cords 
That  cut  my  arms.      And  meantime,  far  below, 
The  sun  was  gilding  fair  with  dying  rays 
Isle  after  isle  and  purple  wastes  of  sea. 

And  then  .she  signed  to  them,  and  all  withdrew 
Among  the  woods  and  left  us,  face  to  face. 
Two  women.      Ere  I  spoke,  '  I  know,'  she  said, 
'  I  know  that  evil  fairness.     This  it  was, 


IlELElV.  107 

Or  ever  he  had  come  across  my  life, 

That  made  him  cold  to  me,  who  had  my  love 

And  left  me  half  a  heart.      If  all  my  life 

Of  wedlock  was  but  half  a  life,  what  fiend 

Came  'twixt  my  love  and  me,  but  tliat  fair  face  ? 

What  left  his  children  orphans,  but  that  face? 

And  me  a  widow?     Fiend  !    I  have  thee  now; 

Thou  hast  not  long  to  live.      I  will  requite 

Thv  murders  ;  yet,  oh  fiend  !   that  art  so  fair, 

Were  it  not  haply  better  to  deface 

Thy  fatal  loveliness,  and  leave  thee  bare 

Of  all  thy  baleful  power?     And  yet  I  doubt, 

And  looking  on  thy  face  I  doubt  the  more. 

Lest  all  thy  dower  of  fairness  be  the  gift 

Of  Aphrodite,  and  I  fear  to  fight 

Against  the  immortal  Gods.' 

Even  witli  the  word, 
And  she  relenting,  all  tlie  riddle  of  life 
Flashed  thruugli  me,  and  the  inextricable  coil 
Of  Being,  and  the  immeasurable  depths 
And  irony  of  Fate,  burst  on  my  thought 
And  left  me  smiling  in  the  eyes  of  death, 
With    this    deep    smile    tliou    seest.      Tlicn    witli    a 
shriek 


Io8  TlIK   KPJC    OF  HADES. 

The  woman  leapt  on  me,  and  with  lilind  rage 
Strangled  my  life.      And  wlien  she  had  done  the  deed 
She  swooned,  and  those  her  followers  hasting  baek 
Fell  prone  upon  their  knees  before  the  corpse 
As  to  a  goddess.      Then  one  went  and  brought 
A  sculptor,  and  within  a  jewelled  shrine 
They  set  me  in  white  marble,  bound  to  a  tree 
Of  marble.     And  they  came  and  knelt  to  me, 
Young  men  and  maidens,  through  the  secular  years. 
While  the  old  gods  bore  sway,  but  I  was  here,  ' 
And  now  they  kneel  no  longer,  for  the  world 
Has  gone  from  beauty. 

lUit  1  think,  indeed. 
They  well  might  worship  still,  for  never  yet 
Was  any  thought  or  thing  of  beauty  born 
Except    with    suffering.      That    poor    wretch     who 

thought 
I  injured  her,  stealing  the  foolish  heart 
Which  she  prized  but  I  could  not,  what  knew  she 
Of  that  1  suffered  .''      Slie  had  loved  her  love, 
Though  unrequited,  and  had  borne  to  him 
Children  who  loved  her.      What  if  she  had  been 
Loved  yet  miloving :   all  tiie  Are  of  love 
Biu'nt  out  before  love's  time  in  one  l)rief  blaze 
Of  jjassion.      Ah,  jjoor  fool  !    I  pitv  her. 


HELEN.  109 

Dcing  blest  and  yet  unthankful,  and  forgive, 

Now  that  she  is  a  ghost  as  I,  the  hand 

Which  loosed  my  load  of  life.      For  scarce  indeed 

Could  any  god  who  cares  for  mortal  men 

Have  ever  kept  me  happy.      I  had  tired 

Of  simple  bving,  doubtless,  as  I  tired 

Of  splendor  and  being  loved.     There  be  some  souls 

For  which  love  is  enough,  content  to  bear 

From  youth  to  age,  from  chestnut  locks  to  gray, 

The  load  of  common,  uneventful  life 

And  penury.      But  I  was  not  of  these  ; 

I  know  not  now,  if  it  were  best  indeed 

That  I  had  reared  my  simple  shepherd  brood. 

And  lived  and  died  unknown  in  some  poor  hut       ' 

Among  the  Argive  hills  ;  or  lived  a  queen 

As  I  did,  knowing  every  day  that  dawned 

Some  high  emprise  and  glorious,  and  in  death 

To  fill  the  world  with  song.      Not  the  same  meed 

The  gods  mete  out  for  all,  or  She,  the  dread 

Necessity,  wlio  rules  both  gods  and  men, 

Some  to  dishonor,  some  to  honor  moulds. 

To  happiness  some,  some  to  unliaiijiincss. 

We  are  what  Zeus  has  made  us,  discords  playing 

In  the  great  music,  but  the  harmony 

Is  sweeter  for  them,  and  the  great  spheres  ring 


IIO  THE    KPJC   OF  IIADKS. 

In  one  accordant  hymn. 

lUit  tliou,  if  e'er 
There  come  a  daughter  of  tliy  love,  oh  pray 
To  all  thy  gods,  lest  haply  they  should  mar 
Her  life  with  too  great  beauty !  " 

So  she  ceased, 
The  fairest  woman  that  the  poet's  dream 
Or  artist  hand  has  fashioned.      All  the  gloom 
Seemed  lightened  round  her,  and  I  heard  the  sound 
Of  her  melodious  voice  when  all  was  still, 
And  the  dim  tvvili"ht  took  her. 


Next  there  came 
Two  who  together  walked  :  one  with  a  lyre 
Of  gold,  which  gave  no  sound ;   the  other  hung 
Upon  his  breast,  and  closely  clung  to  him, 
Spent  in  a  tender  longing.      As  they  came, 
I  heard  her  gentle  voice  recounting  o'er 
Some  ancient  talc,  and  these  the  words  she  said  : 

"  Dear  voice  and  lyre  now  silent,  which  I  heard 
Across  yon  sullen  river,  bringing  to  me 
All  my  old  life,  and  he,  the  ferryman, 
Heard  and  obeyed,  and  the  gi^m  monster  heard 


*'*»' 


EURYDICE.  Ill 

And  fawned  on  you.     Joyous  thou  cam'st  and  free 
Like  a  white  sunbeam  from  the  dear  bright  earth, 
Where  suns  shone  clear,  and  moons  beamed  bright, 

and  streams 
Laughed  with  a  ripphng  music,  —  nor  as  here 
The  dumb    stream   stole,   the  veiled   sky  slept,  the 

fields 
Were  lost  in  twilight.      Like  a  morning  breeze. 
Which  blows  in  summer  from  the  gates  of  dawn 
Across  the  fields  of  spice,  and  wakes  to  life 
Th;ir  slumbering  perfume,  through  this  silent  land 
Of  whispering  voices  and  of  half-closed  eyes. 
Where  scarce  a  footstep  sounds,  nor  any  strain 
Of  earthly  song,  thou  cam'st ;   and  suddenly 
The  pale  cheeks  flushed  a  little,  the  murmured  words 
Rose  to  a  faint,  thin  treble  ;  the  throng  of  ghosts 
Pacing  along  the  sunless  ways  and  still. 
Felt  a  new  life.     Thou  camest,  dear,  and  straight 
Tiie  dull  coll  river  broke  in  sparkling  foam, 
The  pale  and  scentless  flowers  grew  perfumed  ;  last 
To  the  dim  chamber,  wnere  with  the  sad  cjueen 
I  sat  in  gloom,  and  silently  inwove 
Dead  wreaths  of  amaranths  ;   thy  music  came 
Laden  with  life,  and  I,  who  seemed  to  know 
Not  life's  voice  only,  but  my  own,  rose  up, 


112  TI/E    KPJC   OF  HADES. 

Alonij  (he  hollow  pat!; ways  folio winu; 

The  sound  which  hroiit^ht  hack  earth  and  life  and 

love, 
And  memory  and  longin-;.      Yet  I  went 
With  half-reluctant  footsteps,  as  of  one 
Whom  passion  draws,  or  some  high  fantasy, 
Despite  himself,  because  some  subtle  spell. 
Part  born  of  dread  to  cross  that  sullen  stream 
And  its  grim  guardians,  part  of  secret  shame 
Of  the  young  airs  and  freshness  of  the  earth, 
Being  that  I  was,  enchained  me. 

Then  at  last, 
From  voice  and  lyre  so  high  a  strain  arose 
As  trembled  on  the  utter  verge  of  being, 
And  thrilling,  poured  out  life.     Thus  closelier  drawn 
I  walked  with  thee,  shut  in  by  halcyon  sound 
And  soft  environments  of  harmony, 
Beyond  the  ghostly  gates,  beyond  the  dim 
Calm  fields,  where  the  beetle  hummed  and  the  pale 

owl 
Stole  noiseless  from  the  copse,  and  the  white  blooms 
Stretched  thin  for  lack  of  sun  :   so  fair  a  light 
Born  out  of  consonant  sound  environed  me. 
Nor  looked  I  backward,  as  v/e  seemed  to  mov2 
To  some  high  goal  of  thought  and  life  and  love, 


EUR  YD  ICE.  113 

Like  twin  birds  flying  fast  witli  equal  wing 

(3ut  of  the  night,  to  meet  the  coming  sun 

Above  a  sea.      But  on  thy  dear  fair  eyes, 

The  eyes  that  well  I  knew  on  the  old  earth, 

I  looked  not,  for  with  still  averted  gaze 

Thou  leddest,  and  I  followed ;   for,  indeed. 

While  that  high  strain  was  sounding,  I  was  rapt 

In  faith  and  a  high  courage,  driving  out 

All  doubt  and  discontent  and  womanish  fear, 

Nay,  even  my  love  itself.      But  when  awhile 

It  sank  a  little,  or  seemed  to  sink  and  fall 

To  lower  levels,  seeing  that  use  makes  blunt 

The  too  accustomed  ear,  straightway,  desire 

To  look  once  more  on  thy  recovered  eyes 

Seized  me,  and  oft  I  called  with  piteous  voice. 

Beseeching  thee  to  turn.      But  thou  long  time 

Wert  even  as  one  unmindful,  with  grave  sign 

And  waving  hand,  denying.      Finally, 

When  now  we  neared  the  stream,  on  whose  far  shore 

Lay  life,  great  terror  took  me,  and  I  shrieked 

Thy  name,  as  in  despair.     Then  thou,  as  one 

Who  knows  him  set  in  some  great  jeopardy, 

A  swift  death  fronting  him  on  either  hand. 

Didst  slowly  turning  gaze;   and  lo !   I  saw 

Thine  eyes  grown  awful,  life  that  looked  on  death, 


114  '^'Jf^--    /-VV6'    OF  J/APES. 

Clear  purity  on  dark  and  cankered  sin, 

The  immortal  on  corruption,  — not  the  eyes 

That  erst  I  knew  in  life,  but  dreadfuller. 

And  stranger.     As  I  looked,  I  seemed  to  swoon. 

Some  blind  force  whirled  me  back,  and  when  I  woke 

I  sawthee  vanish  in  the  middle  stream, 

A  speck  on  the  dull  waters,  taking  with  thee 

My  life,  and  leaving  Love  with  me.     But  I 

Not  for  myself  bewail,  but  all  for  thee. 

Who,  but  for  me,  wert  now  among  the  stars 

With  thy  great  Lord  ;   I  sitting  at  thy  feet: 

l)Ut  now  the  fierce  and  unrestrained  rout 

Of  passions  woman-natured,  finding  thee 

Scornful  of  love  within  thy  lonely  cell. 

With  blind  rage  falling  on  thee,  tore  thy  limbs, 

And  left  them  to  the  Muses'  sepulture. 

While  thy  soul  dwells  in  Hades.     But  I  wail 

My  weakness  always,  who  for  Love  destroyed 

The  life  that  was  my  Love.      I  prithee,  dear. 

Forgive  me  if  thou  canst,  who  hast  lost  heaven     __• 

To  save  a  loving  woman." 

Pfe  with  voice 
Sweeter  than  any  mortal  melody, 
And  plaintive  as  the  music  that  is  made 
By  the  .^^olian  strings,  or  the  sad  bird 


•%^ 


ORPHEUS.  115 

That  sings  of  summer  nights  :       , 

"  Eurydice, 
Dear  love,  be  comforted  ;  not  once  alone 
That  which  thou  mournest  is,  but  day  by  day 
Some  lonely  soul,  which  walks  apart  and  feeds 
On  high  hill  pastures,  far  from  herds  of  men, 
Comes  to  the  low  fat  fields,  and  sunny  vales 
Joyous  with  fruits  and  flowers,  and  the  white  arms 
Of  laughing  love  ;   and  there  awhile  he  stays. 
Content,  forgetting  all  the  joys  he  knew, 
When  first  the  morning  broke  upon  the  hills, 
Ani  tlie  keen  air  breathed  from  the  Eastern  gates 
Like  a  pure  draught  of  wine  ;  forgetting  all 
The  strains  which  float,  as  from  a  nearer  heaven. 
To  him  who  treads  at  dawn  the  untrodden  snows. 
While  all  the  warm  world  sleeps  ;  —  forgetting  these 
And  all  things  that  have  been.      And  if  he  gain 
To  raise  to  his  own  heights  the  simpler  souls 
That  dwell  upon  the  plains,  the  untutored  thought, 
The  museless  lives,  the  unawakened  brain 
That  yet  might  soar,  then  is  he  blest  indeed. 
Hut  if  he  fail,  then,  leaving  love  behind, 
The  wider  love  of  the  race,  the  closer  love 
Of  some  congenial  soul,  he  turns  again 
To  the  old  difficult  steeps,  and  there  alone 


Il6  THE    F.PIC   OF  JIADF.S. 

rincs.  till  the  widowed  passions  of  his  heart 
Tear  him  and  rend  his  soul,  and  drive  him  down 
To  the  low  plains  he  left.      And  there  he  dwells, 
Missing  the  sky,  dear,  and  the  white  peaks. 
And  the  light  air  of  old  ;  but  in  their  stead 
Finding  the  soft  sweet  sun  of  the  vale,  the  clouds 
Which  veil  the  heavens  indeed,  but  give  the  rains 
That  feed  the  streams  of  life  and  make  earth  green, 
And  bring  at  last  the  harvest.      So  I  walk 
In  this  dim  land  content  with  thee,  O  Love, 
Untouched  by  any  yearning  of  regret 
For  those  old  days  ;  nor  that  the  lyre  which  made 
Erewhile  such  potent  music  now  is  dumb  ; 
Nor  that  the  voice  that  once  could  move  the  earth 
(Zeus  speaking  through  it), speaks  in  household  words 
Of  homely  love  :   Love  is  enough  for  me 
With  thee,  O  dearest ;  and  perchance  at  last, 
Zeus  willing,  this  dumb  lyre  and  whispered  voice 
Shall  wake,  by  Love  inspired,  to  such  clear  note 
As  soars  above  the  stars,  and  swelling,  lifts 
Our  souls  to  highest  heaven." 

Then  he  stooped, 
And,  folded  in  one  long  embrace,  thev  w^nt 
And  faded.     And  I  cried,  "  Oh,  strong  CioJ,  Love, 
Mitrhtier  than  Death  and  Hell  !  " 


DEIANEIKA.  W] 


And  then  I  chanced 
On  a  fair  woman,  wliose  sad  eyes  were  full 
Of  a  fixed  self-reproach,  like  his  who  knows 
Himself  the  fountain  of  his  grief,  and  pines 
In  self-inflicted  sorrow.     As  I  spake 
Enquiring  of  her  grief,  she  answered  thus : 

"  .Stranger,  thou  seest  of  all  the  shades  below 
The  most  unhappy.      Others  sought  their  love 
In  death,  and  found  it,  dying  ;  but  for  me 
The  death  that  took  me,  took  from  me  my  love, 
And  left  me  comfortless.      No  load  I  bear 
Like  those  dark  wicked  women,  who  have  slain 
Their  Lords  for  lust  or  anger,  whom  the  dread 
Propitious  Ones  within  the  pit  below 
Punish  and  purge  of  sin ;   only  unfaith, 
If  lKq)ly  want  of  faith  be  not  a  crime 
Blacker  than  murder,  vv'hen  we  fail  to  trust 
One  worthy  of  all  faith,  and  folly  bring 
No  harder  recompense  than  comes  of  scorn 
And  loatliing  of  itself. 

Ah,  fool,  fool,  fool, 


Il8  THE   Kl'JC   OF  IIADKS. 

Who  didst  mistrust  tliy  love,  who  was  the  best, 
And  truest,  manliest  soul  with  whom  the  gods 
Have  ever  blest  the  earth  ;  so  brave,  so  strong. 
Fired  with  such  burning  hate  of  powerful  ill, 
So  loving  of  the  race,  so  swift  to  raise 
The  fearless  arm  and  mighty  club,  and  smite 
All  monstrous  growths  with  ruin — Zeus  himself 
Showed    scarce    more    mighty  —  and    yet    was    tlie 

while 
A  very  man,  not  cast  in  mould  too  fine 
For  human  love,  but  ofttimes  snared  and  caught 
By  womanish  wiles,  fast  held  within  the  net 
His  passions  wove.      Oh,  it  was  grand  to  hear 
Of  how  he  went,  the  champion  of  his  race. 
Mighty  in  war,  mighty  in  love,  now  bent 
To  more  than  human  tasks,  now  lapt  in  ease, 
Now  suffering,  now  enjoying.     Strong,  vast  soul. 
Tuned  to  heroic  deeds,  and  set  on  high 
Above  the  rage  of  common  petty  sins  — 
Too  high  to  mate  with  an  unequal  soul, 
Too  full  of  striving  for  contented  days. 

Ah  me,  how  well  I  do  recall  the  cause 
Of  all  our  ills  !      I  was  a  happy  bride 
When  that  dark  At^  which  pursues  the  steps 


DEIAXEIKA.  119 

Of  heroes  —  innocent  blood-guiltiness  — 

Drove  us  to  exile,  and  I  joyed  to  be 

His  own,  and  share  his  pain.     To  a  swift  stream 

Fleeing  we  came,  where  a  rough  ferryman 

Waited,  more  brute  than  man.      My  hero  plunged 

In  those  fierce  depths  and  battled  with  their  flow. 

And  with  great  labor  gained  the  strand,  and  bade 

The  monster  row  me  to  him.      lUit  with  lust 

And  brutal  cunning  in  his  eyes,  the  thing 

Seized  me  and  turned  to  fly  with  me,  when  swift 

An  arrow  hissed  from  the  unerring  bow, 

Pierced  him,  and  loosed  his  grasp.     Then  as  his  eyes 

Grew  glazed  in  death  there  came  in  them  a  gleam 

Of  what  I  know  was  hate,  and  he  said,  '  Take 

This  white  robe.      It  is  costly.     See,  my  blood 

Has  stained  it  but  a  little.      I  did  wrong: 

I  know  it,  and  repent  me.     If  there  come 

A  time  when  he  grows  cold  —  for  all  the  race 

Of  heroes  wander,  nor  can  any  love 

Fix  theirs  for  long  —  take  it  and  wrap  him  in  it, 

And  he  shall  love  again.'      Then,  from  the  strange 

Deep  look  within  his  eyes  I  shrank  in  fear. 

And  left  him  half  in  l)ity,  and  I  went 

To  meet  my  Lord,  who  rose  from  that  fierce  stream 

Fair  as  a  god. 


120  THE   EPIC   OE  I/ADES. 

All  me,  the  weary  days 
We  women  live,  spending  our  anxious  souls, 
Consumed  with  jealous  fancies,  hungering  still 
P"or  the  beloved  voice  and  ear  and  eye. 
And  hungering  all  in  vain!      For  life  is  more 
To  youthful  manhood  than  to  sit  at  home 
Before  the  hearth  to  watch  the  children's  ways 
And  lead  the  life  of  petty  household  care 
Which  doth  content  us  women.      Day  by  day 
I  pined  in  Trachis  for  my  love,  while  he. 
Now  in  some  warlike  exploit  busied,  now 
Fighting  some  monster,  now  at  some  fair  court. 
Resting  awhile  till  some  new  enterprise 
Called  him,  returned  not.      News  of  treacheries 
Punished,  friends  succored,  dreadful  monsters  slain. 
Came  from  him  :   alwavs  triumph,  always  fame, 
And  honor,  and  success,  and  reverence. 
And  sometimes  words  of  love  for  me  who  pined 
For  more  than  words,  and  would  have  gone  to  him 
But  that  the  toils  of  such  high  errantry 
Asked  more  than  woman's  strength. 

.So  the  slow  years 
Vexed  me  alone  in  Trachis,  set  forlorn 
In  solitude,  nor  hearing  at  the  gate 
The  frank  and  cheering  voice,  nor  on  the  stair 


DEIANEIRA.  121 

Thv.  heavy  tread,  nor  feeling  the  strong  arm 

Around  me  in  the  darkling  night,  when  all 

My  being  ran  slow.      Last,  subtle  whispers  came 

Of  womanish  wiles  which  kept  my  Lord  from  me, 

And  one  who,  young  and  fair,  a  fresh-blown  life 

And  virgin,  younger,  fairer  far  than  I 

When  first  he  loved  me,  held  him  in  the  toils 

Of  scarce  dissembled  love.      Not  easily 

Might  I  believe  this  evil,  but  at  last 

The  oft-repeated  malice  finding  me 

Forlorn,  and  sitting  imp-like  at  my  ear. 

Possessed  me,  and  the  fire  of  jealous  love 

Raged  through  my  veins,  not  turned  as  yet  to  hate  — 

Too  well  I  loved  for  that  —  but  breeding  in  me 

Unfaith  in  him.      Love,  setting  him  so  high 

And  self  so  low,  betrayed  me,  and  I  prayed. 

Constrained  to  hold  him  false,  the  immortal  gods 

To  make  him  love  again. 

]5ut  still  he  came  not. 
And  still  the  maddening  rumors  worked,  and  still 
■  Fair,  young,  and  a  king's  daughter,'  the  same  words 
Smote  me  and  pierced  me.      Oh,  there  is  no  pain 
In  Hades  —  nay,  nor  tlecpest  Hell  itseli. 
Like  that  of  jealous  hearts,  the  torture-pain 
\\'liich  racked  my  life  so  long. 


122  THK   I'.riC   OF  HADES. 

'I'ill  one  fair  morn 
There  came  a  joyful  message.     '  He  has  come  ! 
And  at  the  shrine  upon  the  promontory,       . 
Tlie  fair  \vliite  shrine  upon  tlie  jjurple  sea, 
He  waits  to  do  his  solemn  sacrifice 
To  the  immortal  gods;   and  with  him  comes 
A  young  maid  beautiful  as  Dawn.' 

Then  I, 
Mingling  despair  with  love,  rapt  in  deep  joy 
That  he  was  come,  plunged  in  the  depths  of  hell 
That  she  came  too,  l)ethought  me  of  the  robe 
The  Centaur  gave  me,  and  the  words  he  spake. 
Forgetting  the  deep  hatred  in  his  eyes, 
And  all  but  love,  and  sent  a  messenger 
Bidding  him  wear  it  for  the  sacrifice 
To  the  immortals,  knowing  not  at  all 
Whom  Fate  decreed  the  victim. 

Shall  my  soul 
Forget  the  agonized  message  which  he  sent, 
Bidding  me  come  ?     For  that  accursed  robe, 
Stained  with  the  poisonous  accurstid  blood, 
Even  in  the  midmost  flush  of  sacrifice 
Clung  to  him  a  devouring  fire,  and  ate 
The  piteous  flesh  from  his  dear  limbs,  and  stung 
His  great  soft  soul  to  madness.     When  I  came, 


DEIANEIRA.  1 23 

Knowing  it  was  my  work,  he  bent  on  me, 

Wise  as  a  god  through  suffering  and  the  near 

Inevitable  Death,  so  that  no  word 

Of  mine  was  needed,  such  a  tender  look 

Of  mild  reproach  as  smote  me.      '  Couldst  not  thou 

Trust  me,  who  never  loved  as  I  love  thee  ? 

What  need  was  there  of  magical  arts  to  draw 

The  love  that  never  wavered  ?      I  have  lived 

As  he  lives  who  through  perilous  paths  must  pass. 

And  lifelong  trials,  striving  to  keep  down 

The  brute  within  him,  born  of  too  much  strength 

And  sloth  and  vacuous  days  ;  by  difficult  toils, 

Labors  endured,  and  hard-fought  fights  with  ill, 

Now  vanquished,  now  triumphant ;  and  sometimes. 

In  intervals  of  too  long  labor,  finding 

His  nature  grown  too  strong  for  him,  falls  prone 

Awhile  a  helpless  prey,  then  once  again 

Rises  and  spurns  his  chains,  and  fares  anew 

Along  tlie  perilous  ways.      Dearest,  1  would 

That  thou  wert  wedded  to  some  knight  who  stayed 

At  home  within  thy  gates,  and  were  content 

To  see  thee  happy.      But  for  me  the  fierce 

Kude  energies  of  life,  the  mighty  thews. 

The  god-sent  hate  of  Wrong,  these  drove  me  forth 

To  quench  the  thirst  of  battle.      See,  this  maid, 


124  TIIK   KPIC   OF  HADES. 

This  is  the  bride  I  destined  for  our  son 
Who  grows  to  manhood.     Do  thou  see  to  her 
When  I  am  dead,  for  soon  I  know  again 
The  frenzy  comes,  and  with  it  ceasing,  death. 
Go,  therefore,  ere  I  harm  thee  when  my  strength 
Has  lost  its  guidance.      Thou  wert  rich  in  love, 
Be  now  as  rich  in  faith.     Dear,  for  thy  wrong 
I  do  forgive  thee.' 

When  I  saw  the  glare 
Of  madness  fire  his  eyes,  and  my  ears  heard 
The  groans  the  torture  wrung  from  his  great  soul, 
I  fled  with  broken  heart  to  the  white  shrine, 
And  knelt  in  prayer,  but  still  my  sad  ear  took 
The  agony  of  his  cries. 

Then  I  who  knew 
There  was  no  hope  in  god  or  man  for  me 
Who  had  destroyed  my  Love,  and  with  him  slain 
The  champion  of  the  suffering  race  of  men. 
And  knowing  that  my  soul,  though  innocent 
Of  blood,  was  guilty  of  unfaitli  and  vile 
Mistrust,  and  wrapt  in  weakness  like  a  cloak, 
And  made  the  innocent  tool  of  hate  and  wrong 
Against  all  love  and  good  ;  grown  sick  and  tilled 
With  hatred  of  myself,  rose  from  my  knees, 
And  went  a  little  space  apart,  and  found 


DEIANEIRA.  12$ 

A  gnarled  tree  on  the  cliff,  and  with  my  scarf 
Strangling  myself,  swung  lifeless. 

But  in  death 
I  found  him  not.      P^or,  building  a  vast  pile 
Of  scented  woods  on  Oeta,  as  they  tell, 
My  hero  with  his  own  hand  lighted  it, 
And  when  the  mighty  pyre  flamed  far  and  wide 
Over  all  lands  and  seas,  he  climbed  on  it 
And  laid  him  down  to  die  ;   but  pitying  Zeus, 
Before  the  swift  flames  reached  him,  in  a  cloud 
Descending,    snatched    the    strong    brave    soul    to 

heaven. 
And  set  him  mid  the  stars. 

Wherefore  am  I 
Of  all  the  blameless  shades  within  this  place 
The  most  unhappy,  if  of  blame,  indeed, 
I  bear  no  load.      For  what  is  Sin  itself. 
But  Error  when  we  miss  the  road  which  leads 
Up  to  the  gate  of  heaven  ?      Ignorance  ! 
Wiiat  if  we  be  the  cause  of  ignorance? 
Being  blind  who  might  have  seen  !     Yet  do  I  know 
But  self-inflicted  pain,  nor  stain  there  is 
Up(jn  my  soul  such  as  tliuy  Ijcar  who  know 
The  dreadful  scourge  with  which  tiie  stern  judge  still 
Lashes  their  sins.      I  am  forgiven,  I  know, 


126  Tin-:  KP/c  OF  i/adks. 

Who  loved  so  much,  aiul  one  (hiy,  if  Zeus  will, 
I  shall  go  free  from  hence,  ami  join  my  Lord, 
And  be  widi  him  again." 

And  straight  I  seemed, 
Passing,  to  look  ujjon  some  scarce-sj)ent  life, 
Which  knows  to-day  the  irony  of  Fate 
In  self-inHicted  pain. 


Together  clung 
The  ghosts  whom  next  I  saw,  bound  three  in  one 
By  some  invisible  bond.     A  sire,  of  port 
God-like  as  Zeus,  to  whom  on  either  hand 
A  tender  stripling  clung.      I  knew  them  well, 
As  all  men  know  them.     One  fair  youth  spake  low 
"  Father,  it  does  not  pain  me  now,  to  be 
Drawn  close  to  thee,  and  by  a  double  bond. 
With  this  my  brother."     And  the  other  :   "  Nay, 
Nor  me,  O  father;  but  I  bless  the  chain 
Which  binds  our  souls  in  union.      If  some  trace 
Of  pain  still  linger,  heed  it  not  —  'tis  past: 
Still  let  us  cling  to  thee." 

He  with  grave  eyes 
Full  of  great  tenderness,  upon  his  sons 
Looked  with  the  father's  gaze,  that  is  so  far 


LAOCOUN.  127 

More  sweet,  and  sad,  and  tender,  than  the  gaze 
Of  mothers, — now  on  this  one,  now  on  that, 
Regarding  them.     "  Dear  sons,  whom  on  the  eartli 
I  loved  and  cherished,  it  was  hard  to  watch 
Your  pain  ;  luit  now  'tis  finished,  and  we  stand 
For  ever,  through  all  future  days  of  time, 
Symbols  of  patient  suffering  undeserved, 
Endured  and  vanquished.     Yet  sad  memory  still 
Brings  back  our  time  of  trial. 

For  the  day 
Broke  fair  when  1,  the  dread  Poseidon's  priest, 
Joyous  because  the  unholy  strife  was  done, 
And  seeing  the  blue  waters  now  left  free 
Of  hostile  keels  — save  where  upon  the  verge 
Far  off  the  white  sails  faded  — rose  at  dawn, 
And  white  robed,  and  in  garb  of  sacrifice, 
And  with  the  sacred  fillet  round  my  lorows. 
Stood  at  tile  altar;  and  behind,  ye  twain. 
Decked  by  your  mother's   hand   with   new-cleansed 

robes, 
And  with  fresh  flower-wreathed  chaplets  on  your  curls, 
Attended,  and  your  clear  young  voices  made 
Music   tliat  touched  your  fatlier's  eyes  with  tears. 
If  not  tlie  careless  gods.      I  seem  to  hear 
'I'liosi!  hi'/li  sweet  accents  mounting  in  the  hymn- 


128  TIIF.    EPIC    OF  JIADKS. 

Which  rose  to  all  the  blessed  gods  who  dwelt 

Upon  the  far  Olympus  —  Zeus,  the  Lord 

And  Sovereign  Here,  and  the  immortal  choir 

Of  Deities,  but  chiefly  to  the  dread 

Poseidon,  him  who  sways  the  purple  sea 

As  with  a  sceptre,  shaking  the  fixed  earth 

With  stress  of  thundering  surges.      r>y  the  shrine 

The  meek-eyed  victin,  for  the  sacrifice, 

Stood  with  his  gilded  horns.     The  hymns  were  done, 

And  I  in  act  to  strike,  when  all  the  crowd 

Who  knelt  behind  us,  with  a  common  fear 

Cried,  with  a  cry  that  well  might  freeze  the  blood, 

And  then,  with  fearful  glances  towards  the  sea. 

Fled,  leaving  us  alone  —  me,  the  high  priest. 

And  ye,  the  acolytes ;  forlorn  of  men, 

Alone,  but  with  our  god. 

Dut  we  stirred  not  : 
We  could  not  flee,  wlio  iii  tlie  solemn  act 
Of  worship,  and  the  ecstasy  which  comes 
To  the  believer's  soul,  saw  heaven  revealed. 
The  mysteries  unveiled,  the  inner  sky 
Which  meets  the  enraptured  gaze.     How  should  we 

fear 
Who  thus  were  god-encircled  !     So  we  stood 
While  the  long  ritual  spent  itself,  nor  cast 


LAOCOOiV.  129 

An  eye  upon  the  sea.     Till  as  I  came 

To  that  great  act  which  offers  up  a  life 

Before  life's  Lord,  and  the  full  mystery 

Was  trembling  to  completion,  quick  I  heard 

A  stilled  cry  of  agony,  and  knew 

My  children's  voices.     And  the  father's  heart, 

Which  is  far  more  than  rite  or  service  done 

By  man  for  god,  seeing  that  it  is  divine 

And  comes  from  God  to  men  —  this  rising  in  me, 

Constrained  me,  and  I  ceased  my  prayer,  and  turned 

To  succor  you,  and  lo  !  the  awful  coils 

Which   crushed  your  lives  already,  bound  me  round 

And  crushed  me  also,  as  you  clung  to  me, 

In  common  death.     Some  god  had  heard  the  prayer. 

And  lo  !  we  were  ourselves  the  sacrifice  — 

The  priest,  the  victim,  the  accepted  life, 

The  blood  the  pain,  the  salutary  loss. 

Was  it  not  Ijetter  thus  to  cease  and  die 
Together  ia  one  blest  moment,  mid  the  iUish 
And  ecstasy  of  worship,  and  to  ki.ow 
Ourselves  the  victims  ?   They  were  wrong  who  t:ui;,!it 
That  'twas  some  jealous  goddess  who  destroyed 
Our  lives,  revengeful  for  discovered  wiles. 
Or  hateful  of  our  land.     Not  readily 


130  TUF.    EPIC   OF  JIAPF.S. 

Should  such  base  passions  sway  tlie  immortal  gods; 

IJut  rather  do  I  hold  it  sooth  indeed 

That  Zeus  himself  it  was,  who  pitying 

The  ruin  he  foreknew,  yet  might  not  stay, 

Since  mightier  Fate  decreed  it,  sent  in  haste 

Those  dreadful  messengers,  and  bade  them  take 

The  pious  lives  he  loved,  before  the  din 

Of  midnight  slaughter  woke,  and  tlie  fair  town 

Flamed  pitifully  to  the  skies,  and  all 

Was  blood  and  ruin.      Surely  it  was  best 

To  die  as  we  did,  and  in  death  to  live, 

A  vision  for  all  ages  of  high  pain 

Which  passes  into  l)eauty,  and  is  merged 

In  one  accordant  whole,  as  discords  merge, 

In  that  great  Harmony  which  ceaseless  rings 

From  the  tense  chords  of  life,  than  to  have  lived 

Our  separate  lives,  and  died  our  separate  deaths, 

And  loft  no  greater  mark  than  drops  which  rain 

Upon  the  unbounded  sea.      Those  hosts  which  fell 

Before  the  Sca-an  gate  upon  the  sand. 

Nor  found  a  bard  to  sing  their  fate,  but  left 

Their  bones  to  dogs  and  kites — were  they  more  blest 

Than  we  who,  in  the  people's  sight  before 

Ilium's  unshattered  towers,  lay  down  to  die 

Our  swift  miraculous  death  ?     I)e;;r  sons,  and  good. 


I.AOCOOX.  131 

Dear  children  of  my  love,  now  doubly  dear 

For  this  our  common  sorrow  ;  suffering  weaves 

Not  only  chains  of  darkness  round,  but  binds 

A  golden  glittering  link,  which  though  withdrawn 

Or  felt  no  longer,  knits  us  soul  to  soul. 

In  indissoluble  bonds,  and  draws  our  lives 

So  close,  that  though  the  individual  life 

Be  merged,  there  springs  a  com;non  life  which  grows 

To  such  dread  beauty,  as  has  power  to  take 

The  sting  from  sorrow,  and  transform  the  pain 

Into  transcendent  joy:  as  from  thcj  storm 

The  unearthly  rainbow  draws  i:s  myriad  hues 

And  steeps  the  world  in  fairne^s.      All  our  lives 

Are  notes  that  fade  and  sink,  and  so  are  merged 

In  the  full  harmony  of  Being.      Dear  sons. 

Cling  closer  to  me.      Life  nor  Death  has  torn 

Our  lives  asunder,  as  for  some,  but  drawn 

Their  separate  strands  together  in  a  knot 

Closer  than  Life  itself,  stronger  than  Death, 

Insoluble  as  Fate."' 

Then  they  three  clung 
Together  —  tlie  strong  father  and  young  sons, 
And  in  their  loving  eyes  I  saw  tlie  I'ain 
Fade  into  Jov,  .Suffcriu"'  in  Beauty  lost, 
And  Death  in  Love  ! 


132  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 


By  a  still  sullen  pool, 
Into  its  dark  depths  gazing,  lay  the  ghost 
Whom  next  I  passed.      In  form,  a  lovely  youth, 
Scarce  passed  from  boyhood.    Golden  curls  were  his, 
And  wide  blue  eyes.      The  semblance  of  a  smile 
Came  on  his  lip  —  a  girl's  but  for  the  down 
Which  hardly  shaded  it;  but  the  pale  cheek 
Was  soft  as  any  maiden's,  and  his  robe 
Was  virginal,  and  at  his  breast  he  bore 
The    perfumed    amber    cup    which,    when     March 

comes, 
Gems  the  dry  woods  and  windy  wolds,  and  speaks 
The  resurrection. 

Looking  up,  he  said  : 
"  Methought  I  saw  her  then,  my  love,  my  fair. 
My  beauty,  my  ideal ;  the  dim  clouds 
Lifted,  methought,  a  little  —  or  was  it 
Fond  Fancy  only .''     For  I  know  that  here 
No  sunbeam  cleaves  the  twilight,  but  a  mist 
Creeps  over  all  the  sky  and  fields  and  pools. 
And  blots  them ;  and  I  know  I  seek  in  vain 
My  earth-sought  beauty,  nor  can  Fancy  bring 


NARCISSUS.  133 

An  answer  to  my  thought  from  these  bHnd  depths 
And  unawakened  skies.      Yet  has  use  made 
The  quest  so  precious,  that  I  keep  it  here, 
Well-knowing  it  is  vain. 

On  the  old  earth 
'Twas  otherwise,  when  in  fair  Thcssaly 
I  walked  regardless  of  all  nymphs  who  sought 
My  love,  but  sought  in  vain,  whether  it  were 
Dryad  or  Naiad  from  the  woods  or  streams. 
Or  white-robed  Oread  fleeting  on  the  side 
Of  fair  Olympus,  echoing  back  my  sighs, 
In  vain,  for  through  the  mountains  day  by  day 
I  wandered,  and  along  the  foaming  brooks. 
And  by  the  pine-woods  dry,  and  never  took 
A  thought  for  love,  nor  ever  mid  the  throng 
Of  loving  nymphs  who  knew  me  beautiful 
I  dallied,  unregarding  ;  till  they  said 
Some  died  for  love  of  me,  who  loved  not  one. 
And  yet  I  cared  not,  wandering  still  alone 
Amid  the  mountains  by  the  scented  pines. 

Till  one  fair  day,  when  all  tlie  liills  were  still. 
Nor  any  l)reeze  made  murmur  through  the  woods. 
Nor  cloud  was  on  the  heavens,  I  wandered  .slow. 
Leaving  the  nymphs  who  fain  with  dance  and  song 


134  J''"'-    >'•/'/(•    OF  nADKS. 

Had  kept  nie  midst  the  glades,  and  strayed  away 

^Vmonii^  the  pines,  en\\rai)t  in  fantas\', 

And  by  the  beechen  dells  wliicli  clotlie  the  feet 

Of  fair  Olympus,  wrapt  in  fantasy, 

Weaving  the  thin  and  unenilxidied  slia])cs 

Which  Fancy  loves  to  liodv  forth,  and  leave 

In  marble  or  in  song  ;  and  so  strayed  down 

To  a  low  sheltered  vale  above  the  plains, 

Where  the  lush  grass  grew  tliick,  and   tlie  stream 

stayed 
Its  garrulous  tongue;   and  last  upon  the  i)ank 
Of  a  still  pool  I  came,  where  was  no  flow 
Of  water,  but  tlie  de])ths  were  clear  as  air, 
And  nothing  but  the  silvery  gleaming  side 
Of  tiny  tishes  stirred.      There  lay  I  down 
Upon  the  flowery  bank,  and  scanned  the  deep, 
Half  in  a  waking  dream 

Then  swift  there  rose, 
From  those  enchanted  depths,  a  face  more  fair 
Than  ever  I  had  dreamt  of,  and  I  knew 
My  sweet  long-sought  ideal:  the  thick  curls. 
Like  these,  were  golden,  and  tlie  white  robe  sliowed 
Like  this  ;  but  for  the  wondrous  eyes  and  lips, 
The  tender  loving  glance,  the  sunny  smile 
Upon  the  rosy  mouth,  these  knew  I  not, 


•Sf    •'i-*' 


A\-jA'C/ss[rs.  135 

Not  even  in  dreams  ;   and  yet  I  seemed  to  trace 

Myself  witliin  them  too,  as  who  should  lind 

His  former  self  expunged,  and  him  transformed 

To  some  high  thin  ideal,  separate 

From  what  he  was,  by  some  invisible  bar, 

And  yet  the  same  in  difference.     As  I  moved 

My  arms  to  clasp  her  to  me,  lo  !  she  moved 

Her  eager  arms  to  mine,  smiled  to  my  smile. 

Looked  love  to  love,  and  answered  longing  eyes 

With  longing.      When  my  full  heart  burst  in  words, 

'  Dearest,  I  love  thee,'  lo  !  the  lovely  lips, 

'  Dearest,  I  love  thee,'  sighed,  and  through  the  air 

The  love-lorn  echo  rang.      But  when  I  longed 

To  answer  kiss  with  kiss,  and  stooped  my  lips 

To  her  sweet  lips  in  that  long  thrill  which  strains 

Soul  unto  soul,  the  cold  lymph  came  between 

And  chilled  our  love,  and  kept  us  separate  souls 

Which  fain  would  mingle,  and  the  self-same  heaven 

Rose,  a  blue  vault  above  us,  and  no  shade 

Of  earthly  tiling  obscured  us,  as  we  lay 

Two  reflex  .souls,  one  and  yet  different, 

Two  sundered  souls  longing  to  be  at  one. 

There,  all  day  long,  until  the  light  was  gone 
And  took  my  hne  away,   1  lay  and  loved 


136  THE    EPIC    OE  HADES. 

The  image,  and  when  niglit  was  come,  '  Farewell,' 

I  whispered,  and  she  whispered  back,  '  Farewell,' 

With  oh,  such  yearning!      Many  a  day  we  spent 

liy  that  clear  pool  together  all  day  long. 

And  many  a  clouded  day  on  the  wet  grass 

I  lay  beneath  the  rain,  and  saw  her  not. 

And  sickened  for  her ;  and  sometimes  the  pool 

Was  thick  with  flood,  and  hid  her ;  and  sometimes 

Some  cold  wind  ruffled  those  clear  wells,  and  left 

But  glimpses  of  her,  and  I  rose  at  eve 

Unsatisfied,  a  cold  chill  in  my  limbs 

And  fever  at  my  heart :  until,  too  soon  ! 

The  summer  faded,  and  the  skies  were  hid. 

And  my  love  came  not,  but  a  feverish  thirst 

Wasted  my  life.     And  all  the  winter  long 

The  bright  sun  shone  not,  or  the  thick  ribbed  ice 

Obscured  her,  and  I  pined  for  her,  and  knew 

My  life  ebb  from  me,  till  I  grew  too  weak 

To  seek  her,  fearing  I  should  see  no  more 

My  dear.      And  so  the  long  dead  winter  waned 

And  the  slow  spring  came  back. 

And  one  blithe  day, 
When  life  was  in  the  woods,  and  the  birds  sang. 
And  soft  airs  fanned  the  hills,  I  knew  again 
Some  gleam  of  hope  within  me,  and  again 


A^ARC/SSUS.  137 

With  feeble  limbs  crawled  forth,  and  felt  the  spring 
Blossom  within  me  ;   and  the  flower-starred  glades, 
The  bursting  trees,  the  building  nests,  the  songs. 
The  hurry  of  life  revived  me  ;   and  I  crept, 
Ghost-like,  amid  the  joy,  until  I  flung 
My  panting  frame,  and  weary  nerveless  limbs, 
Down  by  the  cold  still  pool. 

And  lo  !   I  saw 
My  love  once  more,  not  beauteous  as  of  old, 
But  oh,  how  changed  !   the  fair  young  cheek  grown 

pale, 
The  great  eyes,  larger  than  of  yore,  gaze  forth 
With  a  sad  yearning  look;   and  a  great  pain 
And  pity  took  me  which  were  more  than  love, 
And  with  a  loud  and  wailing  voice  I  cried, 
'  Dearest,  I  come  again.      I  pine  for  thee,' 
And  swift  she  answered  back,  '  I  pine  for  thee  ; ' 
'  Come  to  me,  oh,  my  own,'  I  cried,  and  she  — 
'  Come  to  me,  oh,  my  own.'     Then  with  a  cry 
Of  love  I  joined  myself  to  her,  and  plunged 
I5eneath  the  icy  surface  with  a  kiss, 
And  fainted,  and  am  here. 

And  now,  indeed, 
I  know  not  if  it  was  myself  I  sought, 
As  .some  tell,  or  another.      For  I  hold 


138  THE    EPIC    OE  JIAPES. 

That  what  we  seek  is  l)Ut  our  otlier  self, 
Other  and  higher,  neither  wholly  like 
Nor  wholly  different,  the  half-life  the  gods 
Retained  when  half  was  given  —  one  the  man 
And  one  the  woman  ;   and  1  longed  to  round 
The  imperfect  essence  by  its  complement, 
For  only  thus  the  perfect  life  stands  forth 
Whole,  self-sufficing.      Worse  it  is  to  live 
Ill-mated  than  imperfect,  and  to  move 
From  a  false  centre,  not  a  perfect  sphere, 
But  with  a  crooked  bias  sent  oblique 
Athwart  life's  furrows.     'Twas  myself,  indeed, 
Thus  only  that  I  sought,  that  lovers  use 
To  see  in  that  they  love,  not  that  which  is. 
But  that  their  fancy  feigns,  and  view  themselves 
Reflected  in  their  love,  yet  glorified. 
And  finer  and  more  pure. 

Wherefore  it  is  : 
All  love  which  tinds  its  own  ideal  mate 
Is  happy  —  happy  that  which  gives  itself 
Unto  itself,  and  keeps,  through  long  calm  years. 
The  trancjuil  image  in  its  eyes,  and  knows 
Fulfilment  and  is  blest,  and  day  by  day 
Wears  love  like  a  white  flower,  nor  holds  it  less 
Though  sharp  winds  Ijite,  or  hot  suns  fade,  or  age 


NAKCISSUS.  139 

Sully  its  perfect  whiteness,  but  inhales 

Its  fragrance,  and  is  glad.     But  happier  still 

He  who  long  seeks  a  high  goal  unattained, 

And  wearies  for  it  all  his  days,  nor  knows 

Possession  sate  his  thirst,  but  still  pursues 

The  fleeting  loveliness  —  now  seen,  now  lost. 

But  evermore  grown  fairer,  till  at  last 

He  stretches  forth  his  arms  and  takes  the  fair 

In  one  long  rapture,  and  its  name  is  Death." 

Thus  lie;  and  seeing  me  stand  grave :  "  Farewell. 
If  ever  tliou  shouldst  happen  on  a  wood 
In  Thessaly,  upon  the  plain-ward  spurs 
Of  fair  Olympus,  take  the  path  which  winds 
Through  the  close  vale,  and  thou  shalt  see  the  pool 
Where  once  I  found  my  life.      And  if  in  Spring 
Thou  go  there,  round  the  margin  tliou  shalt  know 
These  amber  blooms  bend  meekly,  smiling  down 
Upon  the  crystal  surface.      Pluck  them  not. 
But  kneel  a  little  while,  and  breathe  a  prayer 
To  the  fair  god  of  Love,  and  let  them  l)e, 
For  in  those  tender  flowers  is  hid  the  life 
That  once  was  mine.     All  things  are  l)ound  in  one 
In  earth  and  heaven,  nor  is  there  any  gulf 
'Twixt  things  that  live,  — the  flower  that  was  a  life. 


I40  rilE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

The  life  that  is  a  flower,  —  but  one  sure  chain 
Binds  all,  as  now  I  know. 

If  there  are  still 
Fair  Oreads  on  the  hills,  say  to  them,  sir, 
They  must  no  longer  pine  for  me,  but  find 
Some  worthier  lover,  who  can  love  again  ; 
For  I  have  found  my  love." 

And  to  the  pool 
He  turned,  and  gazed  with  lovely  eyes,  and  showed 
Fair  as  an  anfrel. 


Leaving  him  enwrapt 
In  musings,  to  a  gloomy  pass  I  came 
Between  dark  rocks,  where  scarce  a  gleam  of  light, 
Not  even  the  niggard  light  of  that  dim  land. 
Might  enter;  and  tlie  soil  was  black  and  bare. 
Nor  even  the  thin  growths  which  scarcely  clothed 
The  higher  fields  might  live.      Hard  by  a  cave 
Which  sloped  down  steeply  to  the  lowest  depths. 
Whence  dreadful  sounds  ascended,  seated  still, 
Her  head  upon  her  hands,  I  saw  a  maid 
With  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  —  not  Tartarus 
It  was,  but  Hades;   and  she  knew  no  pain, 
E.xcept  her  painful  thought.      Yet  there  it  seemed, 


W'    •'*>^ 


MEDUSA.  141 

As  here,  the  unequal  measure  which  awaits 
The  adjustment,  and  meanwhile,  inspires  the  strife 
Which  rears  life's  palace  walls ;  and  fills  the  sail 
Which  bears  our  bark,  across  unfathomed  seas, 
To  its  last  harbor;   this  bore  sway  there  too. 
And  'twas  a  luckless  shade  which  sat  and  wept 
Amid  the  gloom,  though  blameless.      Suddenly, 
She  raised  her  head,  and  lo  !  the  long  curls,  writhed, 
Tangled,  and  snake-like  —  like  the  dripping  hair 
Of  some  young  life  which,  ending  sin  with  life. 
From  out  the  cruel  wintry  flow,  is  laid 
Stark  on  the  snow  with  dreadful  staring  eyes 
Like  hers.      For  when  she  raised  her  eyes  to  mine. 
They  chilled  my  blood,  so  great  a  woe  they  bore ; 
And  as  she  gazed,  wide-eyed,  I  knew  my  pulse 
Beat  slow,  and  my  limbs  stiffen.     Then  they  wore, 
At  length,  a  softer  look,  and  life  revived 
Witliin  my  breast  as  thus  she  softly  spoke  : 

"  Nay,   friend,   I   would   not   harm   thee.      I    have 
known 
Great  sorrow,  and  sometimes  it  racks  me  still. 
And  turns  me  into  stone,  and  makes  my  eyes 
As  dreadful  as  of  yore;   and  yet  it  comes 
]]ut  seldom,  as  thou  sawe.st,  now,  for  'J"ime 


142  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

And  Death  have  healing  hands.     Only  I  love 
To  sit  within  the  darkness  here,  nor  face 
The  throng  of  happier  ghosts ;  if  any  ghost 
or  happiness  come  here.     For  on  the  earth 
They  wronged  me  bitterly,  and  turned  to  stone 
My  heart,  till  scarce  I  knew  if  e'er  I  was 
The  happy  girl  of  yore. 

That  youth  who  dreams 
Up  yonder  by  the  margin  of  the  lake, 
Knew  but  a  cold  ideal  love,  but  me 
Love  in  unearthly  guise,  but  bodily  form. 
Seized  and  betrayed. 

I  was  a  priestess  once. 
Of  stern  Athen^,  doing  day  by  day 
Due  worship ;  raising,  every  dawn  that  came. 
My  cold  pure  hymns  to  take  her  virgin  ear ; 
Nor  sporting  with  the  joyous  company 
Of  youths  and  maids,  who  at  the  neighboring  shrine 
Of  Aphrodite  served.      Nor  dance  nor  song 
Allured  mc,  nor  tlie  pleasant  da}s  of  youth 
And  twiliglits  mid  the  vines.      They  held  me  cold 
Who  were  my  friends  in  childhood.      P^or  my  soul 
Was  virginal,  and  at  the  virgin  shrine 
I  knelt,  athirst  for  knowledge.     Day  by  day 
The  long  cold  ritual  sped,  the  liturgies 


MEDUSA.  143 

Were  done,  the  barren  hymns  of  praise  went  up 
Before  the  goddess,  and  the  ecstasy 
Of  faith  possessed  me  wholly,  till  almost 
I  knew  not  I  was  woman.     Yet  I  knew 
That  I  was  fair  to  see,  and  fit  to  share 
Some  natural  honest  love,  and  bear  the  load 
Of  children  like  the  rest ;  only  my  soul 
Was  lost  in  higher  yearnings. 

Like  a  god, 
He  burst  upon  those  pallid  lifeless  days, 
Bringing  fresh  airs  and  salt,  as  from  the  sea, 
And  wrecked  my  life.     How  should  a  virgin  know 
Deceit,  who  never  at  the  joyous  shrine 
Of  Cypris  knelt,  but  ever  lived  apart, 
And  so  grew  guilty .''     For  if  I  had  spent 
My  days  among  the  throng,  either  my  fault 
Were  blameless  or  undone.      For  innocence 
The  tempter  spreads  his  net.      For  innocence 
The  gods  keep  all  their  terrors.      Innocence 
It  is  that  bears  the  burden,  which  for  guilt 
Is  lightened,  and  the  spoiler  goes  his  way. 
Uncaring,  joyous,  leaving  her  alone, 
The  victim  and  unfriended. 

Was  it  just 
In  her,  my  mistress,  who  had  had  my  youth. 


144  ^^^^'    A/'/C   OF  HADES. 

To  wreak  such  vengeance  on  me  ?      I  had  erred, 
It  may  be;  but  on  him,  whose  was  the  guilt, 
No  heaven-sent  vengeance  lighted,  but  he  sped 
Away  to  other  hearts  across  the  deep, 
Careless  and  free  ;  but  me,  the  cold  stern  eyes 
Of  the  pure  goddess  withered ;  and  the  scorn 
Of  maids,  despised  before,  and  the  great  blank 
Of   love,   whose    love   was    gone  —  this   wrung   my 

heart. 
And  froze  my  blood  ;  set  on  my  brow  despair, 
And  turned  my  gaze  to  stone,  and  iiUed  my  eyes 
With  horror,  and  stiffened  the  soft  curls  which  once 
Lay  smooth  and  fair  into  such  snake-like  rings 
As  made  my  aspect  fearful.     All  who  saw, 
Shrank  from  me  and  grew  cold,  and  felt  the  warm. 
Full  tide  of  life  freeze  in  them,  seeing  in  me 
Love's  work,  who  sat  wrapt  up  and  lost  in  shame. 
As  in  a  cloak,  consuming  my  own  heart. 
And  was  in  hell  already.      As  they  gazed 
Upon  me,  my  despair  looked  forth  so  cold 
From  out  my  eyes,  that  if  some  spoiler  came 
Fresh  from  his  wickedness,  and  looked  on  them. 
Their  glare  would  strike  him  dead ;  and  those  fair 

curls, 
Which  once  the  accursed  toyed  with,  grew  to  be 


MEDUSA.  145 

The  poisonous  things  thou  seest ;  and  so,  with  hate 
Of  man's  injustice  and  the  gods',  who  i^new 
Me  blameless,  and  yet  punished  me ;   and  sick 
Of  life  and  love,  and  loathing  earth  and  sky, 
And  feeding  on  my  sorrow.  Hate  at  last 
Left  me  a  Fury. 

Ah,  the  load  of  life 
Which  lives  for  hatred  !     We  are  made  to  love  — 
We  women,  and  the  injury  which  turns 
The  honey  of  our  lives  to  gall,  transforms 
The  angel  to  the  fiend.     For  it  is  sweet 
To  know  the  dreadful  sense  of  strength,  and  smite 
And  leave  the  tyrant  dead  with  a  glance  ;  ay  !  sweet, 
In  that  fierce  lust  of  power,  to  slay  the  life 
Which  harmed  not,  when  the  suppliants'  cry  ascends 
To  ears  which  hate  has  deafened.     So  I  lived 
Long  time  in  misery  ;  to  my  sleepless  eyes 
No  healing  slumbers  coming  ;  but  at  length, 
Zeus  and  the  goddess  pitying,  I  knew 
Soft  rest  once  more  veiling  my  dreadful  gaze 
In  peaceful  slumbers.     Then  a  blessed  dream 
I  dreamt.      For,  lo  !  a  god-like  knight  in  mail 
Of  gold,  who  sheared  with  his  keen  Hashing  blade; 
With  scarce  a  pang  of  pain,  the  visage  cold 
Which  too  great  sorrow  left  mc ;   at  one  stroke, 


146  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

Clean  from  the  trunk,  and  then  o'er  land  and  sea, 

Invisible,  sped  with  winged  heels,  to  where, 

Upon  a  sea-worn  cape,  a  fair  young  maid. 

More  blameless  even  than  I  was,  chained  and  bound, 

Waited  a  monster  from  the  deep  and  stood 

In  innocent  nakedness.     Then,  as  he  rose. 

Loathsome,  from  out  the  depths,  a  monstrous  growth, 

A  creature  wholly  serpent,  partly  man, 

The  wrongs  that  I  had  known,  stronger  than  death. 

Rose  up  with  such  black  hate  in  me  again, 

And  wreathed  such  hissing  poison  through  my  hair. 

And  shot  such  deadly  glances  from  my  eyes. 

That  naught   that  saw  might   live.      And   the  vile 

worm 
Was  slain,  and  she  delivered.     Then  I  dreamt 
My  mistress,  whom  I  thought  so  stern  to  me, 
Athend,  set  those  dreadful  staring  eyes. 
And  that  despairing  visage,  on  her  shield 
Of  chastity,  and  bears  it  evermore 
To  fright  the  waverer  from  the  wrong  he  would, 
And  strike  the  unrepenting  spoiler,  dead." 

Then  for  a  little  paused  she,  while  I  saw 
Again  her  eyes  grown  dreadful,  till  once  more, 
And  with  a  softer  <rlance : 


ff   "'^^ 


MEDUSA.  147 

"  From  that  blest  dream 
I  woke  not  on  the  earth,  but  only  here. 
And  now  my  pain  is  lightened  since  I  know 
My  dream,  which  was  a  dream  within  the  dream 
Which  is  our  life,  fulfilled.      And  I  have  saved 
Another  through  my  suffering,  and  through  her 
A  people.      Oh,  strange  chain  of  sacrifice. 
That  binds  an  innocent  life,  and  from  its  blood 
And  sorrow  works  out  joy  !      Oh,  mystery 
Of  pain  and  evil !  wrong  grown  salutary. 
And  mighty  to  redeem  !     If  thou  shouldst  see 
A  woman  on  the  earth,  who  pays  to-day 
Like  penalty  of  sin,  and  the  new  gods 
(For  after  Saturn,  Zeus  ruled  ;  after  him 
It  may  be  there  are  others)  love  to  take 
The  tender  heart  of  girlhood,  and  to  immure 
Within  a  cold  and  cloistered  cell  the  life 
Which  nature  meant  to  bless,  and  if  Love  come 
Hold  her  accursed  ;  or  to  some  poor  maid. 
Forlorn  and  trusting,  still  the  tempter  comes 
And  works  his  wrong,  and  leaves  her  in  despair 
And  shame  and  all  abhorrence,  while  he  goes 
His  way  unpunished,  —  if  thou  know  her  eyes 
Freeze  thee  like  mine  —  oh  !  bid  her  lose  her  pain 
In  succoring  others — say  to  her  that  Time 


148  THE   EPIC   OF  IIADKS. 

And    Death    have    healing   hands,    and   here   there 

comes 
To  the  forgiven  transgressor  only  pain 
Enough  to  chasten  joy  !  " 

And  a  soft  tear 
Trembled  within  her  eyes,  and  her  sweet  gaze 
Was  as  the  Magdalen's,  the  horror  gone 
And  a  great  radiance  come. 


fr    ►-w^ 


ADONIS.  149 


Then  as  I  passed 
To  upper  air,  I  saw  two  figures  rise 
Together,  one  a  woman  with  a  grave 
Fair  face  not  all  unhappy,  and  the  robes 
And  presence  of  a  queen  ;  and  with  her  walked 
The  fairest  youth  that  ever  maiden's  dream 
Conceived.     And  as  they  came,  the  throng  of  ghosts, 
For  these  who  were  not  wholly  ghosts,  arose, 
And  did  them  homage.      Not  the  chain  of  love 
Bound  them,  but  such  calm  kinship  as  is  bred 
Of  long  and  difficult  pilgrimages  borne 
Though  common  perils  by  two  souls  which  share 
A  common  weary  exile.      Nor  as  ghosts 
These  showed,  but  rather  like  two  lives  which  hung 
.Suspended  in  a  trance.      A  halo  of  life 
Played  roimd  them,  and  they  brought  a  sweet  brisk 

air 
Tasting  of  earth  and  heaven,  like  sojourners 
Who  stayed  but  for  awhile,  and  knew  a  swift 
Release  await  them.      First  the  youth  it  was 
Who  sjnike  thus  as  they  passed  : 

"  Dread  Queen,  once  more 


I50  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

I  feel  life  stir  within  mc,  and  my  blood 
Runs  faster,  while  a  new  strange  cycle  turns 
And  grows  completed.      Soon  on  the  dear  earth, 
Under  the  lively  light  of  fuller  day, 
I  shall  revive  me  of  my  wound  ;   and  thou, 
Passing  with  me  yon  cold  and  lifeless  stream. 
And  the  grim  monster  who  will  fawn  on  thee, 
Shalt  issue  in  royal  pomp,  and  wreathed  with  flowers, 
Upon  the  cheerful  earth,  leaving  behind 
A  deeper  winter  for  the  ghosts  who  dwell 
Within  these  sunless  haunts ;  and  I  shall  lie 
Once  more  within  loved  arms,  and  thou  shalt  see 
Thy  early  home,  and  kiss  thy  mother's  cheek. 
And  be  a  girl  again.      But  not  for  long ; 
For  ere  the  bounteous  Autumn  spreads  her  hues 
Of  gold  and  purple,  a  cold  voice  will  call 
And  bring  us  to  these  wintry  lands  once  more, 
As  erst  so  often.     Blest  are  we,  indeed. 
Above  the  rest,  and  yet  I  would  I  knew 
The  careless  joys  of  old. 

For  in  hot  youth, 
Oh,  it  was  sweet  to  greet  the  balmy  night 
That  was  love's  nurse,  and  feel  the  weary  eyes 
Closed  by  soft  kisses,  — sweet  at  early  dawn 
To  wake  refreshed  and,  scarce  from  loving  arms 


ADONIS.  I  5  I 

Leaping,  to  issue  forth,  with  winding  horn, 
By  dewy  heath  and  brake,  and  taste  the  fair 
Young  breath  of  early  morning ;   and  'twas  sweet 
To  chase  the  bounding  quarry  all  day  long 
With  my  true  hounds  and  rapid  steed,  and  gay 
Companions  of  my  youth,  and  with  the  eve 
To  turn  home  laden    with  the  spoil,  and  take 
The  banquet  which  awaited,  and  sweet  wine 
Poured  out,  and  kisses  pressed  on  loving  lips ; 
Circled  by  snowy  arms.      Oh,  it  was  sweet 
To  be  alive  and  young  ! 

For  sure  it  is 
The  gods  gave  not  quick  pulses  and  hot  blood 
And  strength  and  beauty  for  no  end,  but  ,vould 
That  we  should  use  them  wisely  ;  and  the  fair, 
Sweet  mistress  of  my  service  was,  indeed. 
Worthy  of  all  observance.      Oh,  her  eyes 
When  I  lay  bleeding!     All  day  long  we  rode, 
1  and  my  youthful  peers,  with  liorse  and  hound, 
And  knew  the  joy  of  swift  jjursuit  and  toil 
And  ])eril.     At  the  last,  a  fierce  boar  turned 
At  l)ay,  and  with  his  gleaming  tusks  o'erthrew 
My  steed,  and  as  1  fell  upon  the  fiowens, 
I'ierced  me  as  with  a  sword.      TiuMi,  as  I  lay, 
1  knew  the  strange  slow  ciiiil  which,  stealing,  tells 


152  THE   EPIC   OF  HAD  as. 

The  young  tliat  it  is  death.      Yet  knew  I  not 
Or  pain  or  fear,  only  great  pity,  indeed, 
That  she  should  lose  her  love,  who  was  so  fond 
And  gracious.      But  when,  lifting  my  dim  gaze, 
I  saw  her  bend  o'er  me,  —  the  lovely  eyes 
Suffused  with  tears,  and  her  sweet  smile  replaced 
By  agonized  sorrow,  —  for  a  while  I  stayed 
Life's  ebbing  tide,  and  raised  my  cold,  white  lips, 
With  a  faint  smile,  to  hers.     Then,  with  a  kiss  — 
One  long  last  kiss,  we  mingled,  and  I  knew 
No  more. 

But  even  in  death,  so  strong  is  Love, 
I  could  not  wholly  die  ;   and  year  by  year, 
When  the  bright  springtime  comes,  and  the  earth  lives, 
Love  opens  these  dread  gates,  and  calls  me  forth 
Across  the  gulf.      Not  here,  indeed,  she  comes. 
Being  a  goddess  and  in  heaven,  but  smooths 
My  path  to  the  old  earth,  where  still  I  know 
Once  more  the  sweet  lost  days,  and  once  again 
Blossom  on  that  soft  breast,  and  am  again 
A  youth,  and  rapt  in  love  ;  and  yet  not  all 
As  careless  as  of  yore  ;  but  seem  to  know 
The  early  spring  of  passion,  tamed,  by  time 
And  suffering,  to  a  calmer,  fuller  flow, 
Less  fitful,  but  more  strong." 


PERSEPHONE.  153 

Then  the  sad  Queen  : 
"  Fair  youth,  thy  lot  I  know,  for  I  am  old 
As  the  old  earth  and  yet  as  young  as  is 
The  budding  spring,  and  I  was  here  a  Queen, 
When  Love  was  not  or  Time,  and  to  my  arms 
Thou  earnest  as  a  little  child,  to  dwell 
Within  the  halls  of  Death,  for  without  Death 
There  were  nor  Birth  nor  Love,  nor  would  Life  yearn 
To  lose  itself  within  another  life, 
And  dying,  to  be  born.     I,  too,  have  died 
For  love  in  part,  and  live  again  through  love ; 
For  in  the  far-off  years,  when  Time  was  young. 
And  Love  unborn  on  earth,  and  Zeus  in  heaven 
Ruled,  a  young  sovereign;    I,  a  maiden,  dwelt 
With  dread  Demeter  on  the  lovely  plains 
Of  sunny  Sicily.      There,  clay  by  day, 
I  sported  with  the  maiden  goddesses. 
In  virgin  freedom.      Budding  age  made  gay 
Our  lightsome  feet,  and  on  the  flowery  slojies 
We  wandered  daily,  gathering  Howers  to  weave 
In  careless  garlands  for  our  locks,  and  passed 
The  days  in  innocent  gladness.     Thought  of  Love 
There  came  not  to  us,  for  as  yet  the  earth 
Was  virginal,  nor  yet  had  Eros  come 
With  his  delicious  pain. 


154  '^'^^^'-    EPIC   OF  HADES. 

Ami  one  fair  morn  — 
Not  all  the  ages  blot  it  —  on  the  side 
Of  /Etna  wc  were  straying.     There  was  then 
Summer  nor  winter,  springtide  nor  the  time 
Of  harvest,  but  the  soft  unfailing  sun 
Shone  always,  and  the  sowing  time  was  one 
With  reaping ;  fruit  and  flowers  together  sprung 
Upon  the  trees ;  and  blade  and  ripened  ear 
Together  clothed  the  plains.      There,  as  I  strayed, 
Sudden  a^black  cloud  down  the  rugged  side 
Of  j^tna,  mixed  with  fire  and  dreadful  sound 
Of  thunder,  rolled  around  me,  and  I  heard 
The  maids  who  were  my  fellows  turn  and  flee, 
Willi  shrieks  and  cries  for  me. 

But  I,  I  knew 
No  terror  while  the  god  o'ershadowed  me. 
Hiding  my  life  in  his,  nor  when  I  wept 
My  flowers  all  withered,  and  my  blood  ran  slow 
Within  a  wintry  land.      Some  voice  there  was 
Which  said,  '  Fear  not.     Thou  shalt  return  and  see 
Thy  mother  again,  only  a  little  while 
Fate  wills  that  thou  shouldst  tarry,  and  become 
Queen  of  another  world.     Thou  seest  that  all 
Thy  flowers  are  faded.      They  shall  live  again 
On  earth,  as  thou  shalt,  as  thou  livest  now 


PERSEPHONE.  I  5  5 

The  Life  of  Death  —  for  what  is  Death  but  Life 
Suspended  as  ia  sleep  ?     The  changeless  rule 
Where  life  was  constant,  and  the  sun  overhead, 
Blazed  forth  for  ever,  changes  and  is  hidden 
Awhile.      This  region  which  thou  seest,  where  all 
The  trees  are  lifeless,  and  the'  llowers  are  dead, 
Is  but  the  self-same  earth  on  which  erewhile 
Thou  sportedst  fancy  free.' 

So,  witliout  fear 
I  wandered  on  this  bare  land,  seeing  far 
Upon  the  sky  the  peaks  of  my  own  hills 
And  crests  of  my  own  woods.      Till,  when  I  grew 
Hungered,  ere  yet  another  form  I  saw  ; 
Along  the  silent  alleys  journeying. 
And  leafless  groves ;  a  fair  and  mystic  tree 
Rose  like  a  heart  in  shape,  and  mid  its  leaves 
One  golden  mystic  fruit  with  a  fair  seed 
Hid  in  it.     This,  with  childish  hand,  I  took 
And  ale,  and  straight  I  knew  the  tree  was  Life, 
And  the  fruit  Death,  and  the  hid  seed  was  Love. 

Ah,  sweet  strange  fruit!   the  which  if  any  taste 
Tliey  may  no  longer  keep  their  lives  of  old 
Or   t^ieir   own   selves   unchanged,    but   some   weird 
chan<re 


156  THK   KPIC   OF  HADES. 

And  subtle  alcliemy  comes  which  can  transmute 

The  blood,  and  mould  the  spirits  of  gods  and  men 

In  some  new  magical  form.     Not  as  before, 

Our  life  comes  to  us,  though  the  passion  cools, 

No,  never  as  before.      My  mother  came 

Too  late  to  seek  me.      She  had  power  to  raise 

A  life  from  out  Death's  grasp,  but  from  the  arms 

Of  Love  she  might  not  take  me,  nor  undo 

Love's   past   for   all    her   strength.      She    came   and 

sought 
With  tires  her  daughter  over  land  and  sea, 
Beyond  the  paths  of  all  the  setting  stars. 
In  vain,  and  over  all  the  earth  in  vain, 
Seeking  whom  love  disguised;      Then  on  all  lands 
She  cast  the  spell  of  barrenness  ;  the  wheat 
Was  blighted  in  the  ear,  tiie  purple  grapes 
Blushed  no  more  on  the  vines,  and  all  the  gods 
Were  sorrowful,  seeing  the  load  of  ill 
My  rape  had  laid  on  men.      Last,  Zeus  himself, 
Pitying  the  evil  that  was  done,  sent  forth 
His  messenger  beyond  the  western  rim 
To  fetch  me  back  to  earth. 

But  not  the  same 
He  found  me  who  had  eaten  of  Love's  seed, 
But  changed  into  another;   nor  could  his  power 


PERSEPHONE.  157 

Prevail  to  keep  me  wholly  on  the  earth, 

Or  make  me  maid  again.      The  wintry  life 

Is  homelier  often  than  the  summer  blaze 

Of  happiness  unclouded  ;  so,  when  Spring 

Comes  on  the  world,  I,  coming,  cross  with  thee, 

Year  after  year,  the  cruel  icy  stream  ; 

And  leave  this  anxious  sceptre  and  the  shades 

Of  those  in  hell,  or  those  for  whom,  though  blest. 

No   Spring  comes,  till  the  last  great  Spring  which 

brings  •  •  '  *.• 

New  heavens  and  new  earth  ;  and  lay  my  head 
Upon  my  mother's  bosom,  and  grow  young, 
And  am  a  girl  again. 

A  soft  air  breathes 
Across  the  stream,  and  fills  these  barren  fields 
With  the  sweet  odors  of  the  earth.      I  know 
Again  the  perfume  of  the  violets 
Which  bloom  on  Etna's  side.      Soon  we  shall  pass 
Together  to  our  home,  while  round  our  feet 
The  crocus  flames  like  gold,  the  wind-flowers  white 
Wave  their  soft  petals  on  tlie  1  rceze,  and  all 
The  choir  of  flowers  lift  up  their  silent  song 
To  the  unclouded  heavens.      Thou,  fair  bo)', 
.Shalt  lie  williin  llu'  love's  white  arms  again, 
,'\nd   I   witliin  in\-  niothcr'.s.      Sweet  is  Love 


I  58  TJIE    JiPJC    (>/■-  JJAJ)J':S. 

In  ceasing  and  renewal  ;   nay,  in  these 

It  lives  and  has  its  heini:;.      'l"hou  conldst  not  keep 

Thy  youth  as  now,  if  always  on  the  breast 

Of  love  too  late  a  lingerer  thou  hadst  known 

Possession  sate  thee.      Nor  might  I  have  kept 

My  mother's  heart,  if  I  had  lived  to  ripe 

And  wither  on  tlie  stalk.     Time  calls  and  Change 

Commands  both  men  and  gods,  and  speeds  us  on 

We  know  not  whither;   but  the  old  earth  smiles 

Spring  after  Spring,  and  the  seed  bursts  again 

Out  of  its  prison  mould,  and  the  dead  lives 

Renew  themselves,  and  rise  aloft  and  soar 

And    are     transformed,    clothing    themselves     with 

change 
Till  the  last  change  be  done." 

As  thus  she  spake, 
I  saw  a  gleam  of  light  flash  from  the  eyes 
Of  all  the  listening  shades,  and  a  great  joy 
Tluill  ihroui'h  the  rcahiis  of  Death. 


ENDYMIOX. 


159 


And  then  again 
A  youthful  shade  I  saw.  a  comely  boy, 
With  lip  and  cheek  just  touched  with  manly  down, 
And  strong  limbs  wearing  Spring;  in  mien  and  garb 
A  youthful  chieftain,  with  a  perfect  face 
Of  fresh  young  beauty,  clustered  curls  divine, 
And  chiselled  features  like  a  sculptured  god, 
But  warm  and  breathing  life  ;  only  the  eyes. 
The  fair  large  eyes,  were  full  of  dreaming  thought. 
And  seemed  to  gaze  beyond  the  world  of  sight, 
On  a  hid  world  of  beauty.      Him  I  stayed, 
Acco.'iting  with  soft  words  of  courtesy ; 
And,  on  a  bank  of  scentless  flowers  reclined. 
He  answered  thus  : 

"  Not  for  the  garish  sun 
I  long,  nor  for  the  splendors  of  high  noon 
In  this  dim  land  I  languish  ;  for  of  yore 
Full  often,  when  the  swift  chase  swept  along 
Tlirough    tlie    brisk    morn,    or   wlicn    my   comrades 

called 
To  wrestling,  or  tlie  foot-race,  or  to  cleave 
The  sunny  stream,  I  loved  to  walk  apart, 


i6o  Tnr.  F.ric  of  jiadi's. 

Scir-centrcfl,  sole;   and  when  the  laughing  girls 

To  some  fair  stripling's  oaten  melody 

Made  ready  for  the  dance,  1  heeded  not ; 

Nor  whrn  to  the  loud  trumi)ct's  blast  and  blare 

My  peers  rode  forth  to  battle.      For,  one  eve, 

In  Latnios,  after  a  long  day  in  June, 

I  stayed  to  rest  me  on  a  sylvan  hill, 

Where  often  youth  and  maid  were  wont  to  meet 

Towards  moonrise;   and  deep  slumber  fell  on  me 

Musing  on  Love,  just  as  the  ruddy  orb 

Rose  on  the  lucid  night,  set  in  a  frame 

Of  blooming  myrtle  and  sharp  tremulous  plane; 

Deep  slumber  fell,  and  loosed  my  limbs  in  rest. 

Then,  as  the  full  orb  poised  upon  the  peak. 
There  came  a  lovely  vision  of  a  maid. 
Who  seemed  to  step  as  from  a  golden  car 
Out  of  the  low-hung  moon.      No  mortal  form. 
Such  as  ofttimes  of  yore  I  knew  and  clasped 
At  twilight  mid  the  vines  at  the  mad  feast 
Of  Dionysus,  or  the  fair  maids  cold 
Who  streamed  in  white  processions  to  the  shrine 
Of  the  chaste  Virgin  Goddess ;  but  a  shape 
Richer  and  yet  more  pure.     No  thinnest  veil 
Obscured  her;  but  each  exquisite  limb  revealed, 


ENDYMION.  l6l 

Gleamed  like  a  golden  statue  subtly  wrought 

By  a  great  sculptor  on  the  architrave 

Of  some  high  temple-front  —  only  in  her 

The   form  was   soft   and   warm,  and   charged  with 

life, 
And  breathing.      As  I  seemed  to  gaze  on  her. 
Nearer  she  drew  and  gazed  ;  and  as  I  lay 
Supine,  as  in  a  spell,  the  radiance  stooped 
And  kissed  me  on  the  lips,  a  chaste,  sweet  kiss, 
Which  drew  my  spirit  with  it.      So  I  slept 
Each  night  upon  the  hill,  until  the  dawn 
Came  in  her  silver  chariot  from  the  East, 
And  chased  my  Love  away.     But  ever  thus 
Dissolved  in  love  as  in  a  heaven-sent  dream, 
Whenever  the  bright  circle  of  the  moon 
Climbed  from  the  hills,  whether  in  leafy  June 
Or  harvest-tide,  or  when  they  leapt  and  pressed 
Red-thighed  the  spouting  must,  I  walked  apart 
From  all,  and  took  no  thought  for  mortal  maid, 
Nor  nimble  joys  of  youth  ;  but  night  by  night 
I  stole,  when  all  were  sleeping,  to  the  hill, 
And  slumbered  and  was  blest;  until  I  grew 
Possest  by  love  so  deep,  I  seemed  to  live 
In  slumber  only,  while  the  waking  day 
Showed  faint  as  any  vision. 


1 62  TJJK   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

So  I  turned 
Paler  and  paler  with  the  months,  and  climbed 
The  steep  with  labored  steps  and  difficult  breath, 
But  still  I  climbed.      Ay,  though  the  wintry  frost 
Chained  fast  the  streams  and  whitened  all  the  fields, 
I  sought  my  mistress  through  the  leafless  groves, 
And  slumbered  and  was  happy,  till  the  dawn 
Returning  found  me  stretched  out,  cold  and  stark. 
With  life's  fire  nigh  burnt  out.      Till  one  clear  night. 
When  the  birds  shivered  in  the  pines,  and  all 
The  inner  heavens  stood  open,  lo  !  she  came, 
Brighter  and  kinder  still,  and  kissed  my  eyes 
And  half-closed  lips,  and  drew  my  soul  through  them, 
And  in  one  precious  ecstasy  dissolved 
My  life.     And  thenceforth,  ever  on  the  hill 
I  lie  unseen  of  man ;  a  cold,  white  form, 
Still  young,  through  all  the  ages  ;   but  my  soul, 
Clothed  in  this  thin  presentment  of  old  days, 
Walks  this  dim  land,  where  never  moonrise  comes, 
Nor  day-break,  but  a  twilight  waiting-time. 
No  more  ;  and,  ah  !  how  weary  !     Yet  I  judge 
My  lot  a  higher  far  than  his  who  spends 
His  youth  on  swift  hot  pleasure,  quickly  past; 
Or  theirs,  my  equals',  who  through  long  calm  years 
Grew  sleek  in  dull  content  of  wedded  lives 


ENDYMION.  163 

And  fair-grown  offspring.      Many  a  day  for  them, 
While  I  was  wandering  here,  and  my  bones  bleached 
Upon  the  rocks,  the  sweet  autumnal  sun 
Beamed,  and  the  grapes  grew  purple.     Many  a  day 
They  heaped  up  gold,  they  knelt  at  festivals, 
They  waxed  in  high  report  and  fame  of  men, 
They  gave  their  girls  in  marriage ;  while  for  me 
Upon  the  untrodden  peaks,  the  cold,  grey  morn. 
The   snows,    the   rains,   the  winds,  the  untempered 

blaze. 
Beat  year  by  year,  until  I  turned  to  stone, 
And  the  great  eagles  shrieked  at  me,  and  wheeled 
Affrighted.      Yet  I  judge  it  best  indeed 
To  seek  in  life,  as  now  I  know  I  sought, 
Some  fair  impossible  Love,  which  slays  our  life. 
Some  high  ideal  raised  too  high  for  man ; 
And  failing  to  grow  mad,  and  cease  to  be. 
Than  to  decline,  as  they  do  who  have  found 
Broad-paunched  content  and  weal  and  happiness : 
And  so  an  end.      For  one  day,  as  I  know. 
The  high  aim  unfulfilled  fulfils  itself ; 
The  deep,  unsatisfied  thirst  is  satisfied  ; 
And  through  this  twilight,  broken  suddenly, 
The  inmost  heaven,  the  lucent  stars  of  God, 
The  Moon  of  Love,  the  Sun  of  Life;  and  I, 


164  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

I  wlio  pine  here —  I  on  the  Latmian  hill 
Shall  soar  aloft  and  find  liicm." 

With  the  word, 
There  beamed  a  shaft  of  dawn  athwart  the  skies, 
And  straight  the  sentinel  thrusli  within  the  yew 
Sang  out  reveille  to  the  hosts  of  day. 
Soldierly ;  and  the  pomp  and  rush  of  life 
Began  once  more,  and  left  me  there  alone 
Amid  the  awaking  world. 


PSYCHE.  1 6s 


Nay,  not  alone. 
One  fair  shade  lingered  in  the  fuller  day, 
The  last  to  come,  when  now  my  dream  had  grown 
Half    mixed    with    waking    thoughts,    as    grows    a 

dream 
In  summer  mornings  when  the  broader  light 
Dazzles  the  sleeper's  eyes  ;  and  is  most  fair 
Of  all  and  best  remembered,  and  becomes 
Part  of  our  waking  life,  when  older  dreams 
Grow  fainter,  and  are  fled.      So  this  remained 
The  fairest  of  the  visions  that  I  knew. 
Most  precious  and  most  dear. 

The  increasing  light 
Shone  through  her,  finer  than  the  thinnest  shade. 
And  yet  most  full  of  beauty  ;  golden  wings, 
From  her  fair  shoulders  springing,  seemed  to  lift 
Her  stainless  feet  from  the  cold  ground  and  snatch 
Their  wearer  into  air;  and  in  her  eyes 
Was  such  fair  glance  as  comes  from  virgin  love, 
Long  chastened  and  Iriumjjhant.     Every  trace 
Of  earth  had  vanished  from  her,  and  she  showed 
'Vs  one  who  walks  a  saint  already  in  life, 


1 66  THE   RPJC   OF  JLIDES. 

Virgin  or  mother.      Ininiorlality 

Breathed   from    those  radiant    eyes   which  yet  had 

passed 
Between  the  gates  of  dcatli.      I  seemed  to  hear 
The  soul  of  mortals  speaking  : 

"I  was  born 
Of  a  great  race  and  mighty,  and  was  grown 
Fair,  as  they  said,  and  good,  and  kept  a  life 
f'ure  from  all  stain  of  passion.      Love  I  knew  not, 
Who  was  absorbed  in  duty ;  and  the  Mother 
Of  gods  and  men,  seeing  my  life  more  calm 
Than  human,  hating  my  impassive  heart. 
Sent  down  her  perfect  son  in  wrath  to  earth. 
And  bade  him  break  me. 

But  when  Eros  came, 
It  did  repent  him  of  the  task,  for  Love 
Is  kin  to  Duty. 

And  within  my  life 
I  knew  miraculous  change,  and  a  soft  flame 
Wherefrom  the  snows  of  Duty  flushed  to  rose. 
And  the  chill  icy  flow  of  mind  was  turned 
To  a  warm  stream  of  passion.     Long  I  lived 
Not  knowing  what  had  lieen,  nor  recognized 
A  Presence  walking  with  me  through  my  life, 
As  if  by  night,  his  face  and  form  concealed  ; 


PSYCHE.  167 

A  gracious  voice  alone,  which  none  but  I 

Might  hear,  sustained  me,  and  its  name  was  Love. 

Not  as  the  earthly  loves  which  throb  and  flush 
Round  earthly  shrines  was  mine,  but  a  pure  spirit. 
Lovelier  than  all  embodied  love,  more  pure 
And  wonderful ;   but  never  on  his  eyes 
I  looked,  which  still  were  hidden,  and  I  knew  not 
The  fashion  of  his  nature ;  for  by  night. 
When  visual  eyes  are  blind,  but  the  soul  sees, 
Came  he,  and  bade  me  seek  not  to  enquire 
Or  whence  he  came  or  wherefore.      Nor  knew  I 
His  name.      And  always  ere  the  coming  day, 
As  if  he  were  the  Sun-god,  lingering 
With  some  too  well-loved  maiden,  he  would  rise 
And  vanish  until  eve.      But  all  my  being 
Thrilled  with  my  fair  uneartlily  visitant 
To  higher  duty  and  more  glorious  meed 
Of  action  than  of  old,  for  it  was  Love 
Who  came  to  me,  who  miglit  not  know  his  name. 

Thus,  ever  rai)t  by  dreams  divine.  I  knew 
The  scorn  that  comes  from  weaker  souls,  which  miss, 
Being  too  low  of  nature,  the  great  joy 
Revealed  to  others  higlier;   nay,  my  sisters, 


l68  THE    EPIC    OE  J/ADES. 

Wlio  being  of  one  Ijlood  with  me,  made  choice 

To  tread  the  lower  ways  of  daily  life, 

Grew  jealous  of  me,  bidding  me  take  heed 

Lest  haply  'twas  some  monstrous  fiend  I  loved, 

Such  as  in  fable  ofttimes  sought  and  won 

The  innocent  hearts  of  maids.      Long  time  I  held 

My  love  too  dear  for  doubt,  who  was  so  sweet 

And  lovable.     But  at  the  last  the  sneers. 

The  mystery  which  hid  him,  the  swift  flight 

Before  the  coming  dawn,  the  shape  concealed. 

The  curious  girlish  heart,  these  worked  on  me 

With  an  unsatisfied  thirst.      Not  his  own  words: 

'  Dear,  I  am  with  thee  only  while  I  keep 

My  visage  hidden  ;  and  if  thou  once  shouldst  see 

My  face,  I  must  forsake  thee  :  the  high  gods 

Link  Love  with  Faith,  and  he  withdraws  himself 

From  the  full  gaze  of  Knowledge  '  —  not  even  these 

Could  cure  me  of  my  longing,  or  the  fear 

Those    mocking   voices   worked  ;   who    fain  would 

learn 
The  worst  that  might  befall. 

And  one  sad  night. 
Just  as  the  day  leapt  from  the  hills  and  brought 
The  hour  when  he  should  go  :  with  tremulous  hands. 
Lighting  my  midnight  lamp  in  fear,  I  stood 


PSYCHE.  169 

Long  time  uncertain,  and  at  length  turned  round 

And  gazed  upon  my  love.      He  lay  asleep, 

And  oh,  how  fair  he  was  !     The  flickering  light 

Fell  on  the  fairest  of  the  gods,  stretched  out 

In  happy  slumber.      Looking  on  his  locks 

Of  gold,  and  faultless  face  and  smile,  and  limbs 

Made  perfect,  a  great  joy  and  trembling  took  me 

Who  was  most  blest  of  women,  and  in  awe 

And  fear  I  stooped  to  kiss  him.     One  warm  drop — - 

From  the  full  lamp  within  my  trembling  hand, 

Or  a  glad  tear  from  my  too  happy  eyes. 

Fell  on  his  shoulder. 

Then  the  god  unclosed 
His  lovely  eyes,  and  with  great  pity  spake  : 
'  Farewell !     There  is  no  Love  except  vvith  Faith, 
And  thine  is  dead  !      Farewell!      I  come  no  more.' 
And  straightway  from  the  hills  the  full  red  sun 
Leapt  up,  and  as  I  clasped  my  love  again. 
The  lovely  vision  faded  from  his  place, 
And  came  no  more. 

Then  I,  with  breaking  heart. 
Knowing  my  life  laid  waste  by  my  own  liand, 
Went  forth  and  would  have  sought  to  hide  my  life 
Witiiin  the  stream  of  Death  ;   but  Deatli  came  not 
To  aid  me  wlio  not  yet  was  meet  for  iJcatii. 


I/O  TJJK    KPJC   Or    J/AJ)1-:S. 

Then  finding;  that  Love  came  not  back  to  me, 
I  thought  tliat  in  tlie  temples  of  the  gods 
Haply  he  dwelt,  and  so  from  fane  to  fane 
1  wandered  over  earth,  and  knelt  in  each, 
Enquiring  for  my  Love;  and  I  would  ask 
The  priests  and  worshippers,  '  Is  this  Love's  shrine? 
Sirs,  have  you  seen  the  god  ? '     But  never  at  all 
1  found  him.     For  some  answered,  '  This  is  called 
The  Shrine  of  Knowledge  ; '  and  another,  '  This, 
The  Shrine  of  Beauty ; '  and  another,  '  Strength  ;  ' 
And  yet  another,  '  Youth.'     And  I  would  kneel 
And  say  a  prayer  to  my  Love,  and  rise 
And  seek  another.     Long,  o'er  land  and  sea, 
I  wandered,  till  I  was  not  young  or  fair, 
Grown  wretched,  seeking  my  lost  Love ;  and  last. 
Came  to  the  smiling,  hateful  shrine  where  ruled 
The  queen  of  earthly  love  and  all  delight, 
Cvpris,  but  knelt  not  there,  but  asked  of  one 
Who  seemed  her  priest,  if  liros  dwelt  with  her. 

Then  to  the  subtle-smiling  goddess'  self 
They  led  me.     She  with  hatred  in  her  eyes:  , 
'What!   thou  to  seek  for  Love,  who  art  grown  thin 
And  pale  with  watching  !     He  is  not  for  thee. 
What  Love  is  left  for  such  ?     Thou  didst  despise 


PSYCHE.  171 

Love,  and  didst  dwell  apart.     Love  sits  within 
The  young  maid's  eyes,  making  them  beautiful. 
Love  is  for  youth,  and  joy,  and  happiness  ; 
And  not  for  withered  lives.     Ho  !  bind  her  fast. 
Take  her  and  set  her  to  the  vilest  tasks, 
And  bend  her  pride  by  solitude  and  tears 
Who  will  not  kneel  to  me,  but  dares  to  seek 
A  disembodied  love.     My  son  has  gone 
And  left  thee  for  thy  fault,  and  thou  shalt  know 
The  misery  of  my  thralls.' 

Then  in  her  house 
They  bound  me  to  hard  tasks  and  vile,  and  kept 
My  life  from  honor,  chained  among  her  slaves 
And  lowest  ministers,  taking  despite 
And  injury  for  food,  and  set  to  bind 
Their  wounds  whom  she  had  tortured,  and  to  feed 
The  pitiful  lives  which  in  her  prisons  pent 
Languished  in  hopeless  pain.     There  is  no  sight 
Of  suffering  but  I  saw  it,  and  was  set 
To  succor  it;  and  all  my  woman's  heart 
Was  torn  with  the  ineffable  miseries 
Which  love  and  life  have  worked ;   and  dwelt  long 

time 
In  groaninifs  and  in  tears. 

And  then,  oh  joy  ! 


1/2  THE  EPIC  OF  HADES. 

Oh  miracle  !  once  more  at  length  again 

I  felt  Love's  arms  around  me,  and  the  kiss 

Of  Love  upon  my  lips,  and  in  the  chill 

Of  deepest  prison  cells,  mid  vilest  tasks, 

The  glow  of  his  sweet  breath,  and  the  warm  touch 

Of  his  invisible  hand,  and  his  sweet  voice. 

Ay,  sweeter  than  of  old,  and  tenderer, 

Speak  to  me,  pierce  me,  hold  me,  fold  me  round 

With  arms  Divine,  till  all  the  sordid  earth 

Was  hued  like  heaven,  and  Life's  dull  prison-house 

Turned  to  a  golden  palace,  and  those  low  tasks 

Grew  to  be  higher  works  and  nobler  gains 

Than  any  gains  of  knowledge,  and  at  last 

He  whispered  softly,  '  Dear,  unclose  thine  eyes. 

Thou  mayst  look  on  me  now.     I  go  no  more, 

But  am  thine  own  for  ever.' 

Then  with  wings 
Of  gold  we  soared,  1  looking  in  his  eyes. 
Over  yon  dark  broad  river,  and  this  dim  land, 
Scarce  for  an  instant  staying  till  we  reached 
The  inmost  courts  of  heaven. 

But  sometimes  still 
I  come  here  for  a  little,  and  speak  a  word 
Of  peace  to  those  who  wait.     The  slow  wheel  turns, 
The  cycles  round  themselves  and  grow  complete, 


PSYCHE.  173 

The  world's  year  whitens  to  the  harvest-tide, 

And  one  word  only  am  I  sent  to  say 

To  those  dear  souls,  who  wait  here,  or  who  now 

Breathe  earthly  air  —  one  universal  word 

To  all  things  living,  and  the  word  is  '  Love.'" 

Then  soared  she  visibly  before  my  gaze, 
And  the  heavens  took  her,  and  I  knew  my  eyes 
Had  seen  the  soul  of  man,  the  deathless  soul, 
Defeated,  struggling,  purified,  and  blest. 


Then  all  the  choir  of  happy  waiting  shades. 
Heroes  and  queens,  fair  maidens  and  brave  youths, 
Swept  by  me,  rhythmic,  slow,  as  if  they  trod 
Some  unheard  measure,  passing  where  I  stood 
In  fair  procession,  each  with  a  faint  smile 
Upon  the  lip,  signing  "  Farewell,  oh  shade  ! 
It  shall  be  well  with  thee,  as  'tis  with  us. 
If  only  thou  art  true.      The  world  of  Life, 
Tlie    world  of  Death,  are  but  opposing  sides 
Of  one  great  orb,  and  the  Light  shines  on  both. 
Oh,  happy  happy  shade  !     Farewell !     Farewell !  " 
And  so  they  passed  away. 


END    OF    BOOK    II. 


BOOK    111. 

OLYMPUS. 


But  I,  my  gaze 
Following  the  soaring  soul  which  now  was  lost 
In  the  awakening  skies,  floated  with  her, 
As  in  a  trance,  beyond  the  golden  gates 
Which    separate  Earth  from  Heaven;    and  to  my 

thought 
Gladdened  by  that  broad  effluence  of  light. 
This  old  earth  seemed  transfigured,  and  the  fields. 
So  dim  and  bare,  grew  green  and  clothed  themselves 
With  lustrous  hues.     A  fine  ethereal  air 
Played  round  me  as  I  mused,  and  filled  the  soul 
With  an  ineffable  content.     What  need 
Of  words  to  tell  of  things  unreached  by  words  ? 
Or  seek  to  engrave  upon  the  treacherous  thought 
The  fair  and  fugitive  fancies  of  a  dream. 
Which  vanish  ere  we  fix  them  ? 

But  methinks 
He  knows  the  .scene,  who  knows  the  one  fair  day, 
One  only  and  no  more,  which  year  by  year 
In  springtime  comes,  when  lingering  winter  flies, 
177 


lyS  THE   Eric   OE  HADES. 

And  lo  !  the  trees  blossom  in  white  and  pink, 
And  golden  clusters,  and  the  glades  are  filled 
With  delicate  primrose  and  deep  odorous  beds 
Of  violets,  and  on  the  tufted  meads 
With     kingcups    starred,    and    cowslip    bells,    and 

blue 
Sweet  hyacinths,  and  frail  anemones. 
The  broad  West  wind  breathes  softly,  and  the  air 
Is  tremulous  with  the  lark,  and  thro'  the  woods 
The  soft  full-throated  thrushes  all  day  long 
Flood  the  green  dells  with  joy,  and  thro'  the  dry 
Brown  fields  the  sower  strides,  sowing  his  seed. 
And  all  is  life  and  song.     Or  he  who  first, 
Whether  in  fair  free  boyhood,  when  the  world 
Is  his  to  choose,  or  when  his  fuller  life 
Beats  to  another  life,  or  afterwards. 
Keeping  his  youth  within  his  children's  eyes, 
Looks  on  the  snow-clad  everlasting  hills. 
And  marks  the  sunset  smite  them,  and  is  glad 
Of  the  beautiful  fair  world. 

A  springtide  land 
It  seemed,  where  East  winds  came  not.     Sweetest 

song 
Was  everywhere,  by  glade  or  sunny  plain  ; 
And  thro'  the  golden  valleys  winding  streams 


OLYMPUS.  179 

Rippled  in  glancing  silver,  and  above, 
The  blue  hills  rose,  and  over  all  a  peak. 
White,  awful,  W\\\\  a  constant  fleece  of  cloud 
Veiling  its  summit,  towered.      Unfailing  Day 
Lighted  it,  for  no  turn  of  dawn  and  eve 
Came  there,  nor  changing  seasons,  but  a  broad 
Fixed  joy  of  Being,  undisturbed  by  Time. 

There,  in  a  happy  glade  shut  in  by  groves 
Of  laurel  and  sweet  myrtle,  on  a  green 
And  flower-lit  lawn,  I  seemed  to  see  the  ghosts 
Of  the  old  gods.     Upon  the  gentle  slope 
Of  a  fair  hill,  a  joyous  company, 
The  Immortals  lay.     Hard  by,  a  murmurous  stream 
Fell  thro'  the  flowers  ;  below  them,  space  on  space. 
Laughed  the  immeasurable  plains  ;  beyond, 
The  mystic  mountain  soared.     Height  after  height 
Of  bare  rock  ledges  left  the  climbing  pines. 
And  reared  their  giddy,  shining  terraces 
Into  the  ethereal  air.     Above,  the  snows 
Of  the  white  summit  cleft  the  fleece  of  cloud 
Which  always  clothed  it  round. 

Ah,  fair  and  sweet, 
Yet  with  a  ghostly  fairness,  fine  and  thin, 
Those  godlike  Presences.     Not  dreams  indeed, 


l80  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

But    something    dream-like,    were    they.       Blessed 

Shades 
Heroic  and  Divine,  as  when,  in  days 
When  Man  was  young,  and  Time,  the  vivid  thought 
Translated  into  Form  the  unattained 
Impossible  Beauty  of  men's  dreams,  and  fixed 
The  Loveliness  in  marble. 

As  with  awe 
Following  my  spotless  guide,  I  stood  apart, 
Not  daring  to  draw  near;  a  shining  form 
Rose  from  the  throng,  and  floated,  light  as  air, 
To  where  I  trembled.     And  I  knew  the  face 
And  form  of  Artemis,  the  fair,  the  pure, 
The  undefiled.     A  crescent  silvery  moon 
Shone  thro'  her  locks,  and  by  her  side  she  bore 
A  quiver  of  golden  darts.     At  sight  of  whom 
I  felt  a  sudden  chill,  like  his  who  once 
Looked  upon  her  and  died ;  yet  could  not  fear, 
Seeing  how  fair  she  was.     Her  sweet  voice  rang 
Clear  as  a  bird's  : 

"  Mortal,  what  faith  hath  brought 
Thee  hither,  uncleansed  by  death  ?     How  canst  thou 

breathe 
Immortal  air,  being  mortal  ?     Yet  fear  not. 
Since  thou  art  come.     For  we  too  are  of  earth 


«"  •'%^ 


ARTEMIS.  l8l 

Whom  here  thou  seest :  there  were  not  a  heaven 

Were  there  no  earth,  nor  gods,  had  men  not  been, 

But  each  the  complement  of  each  and  grown 

The  other's  creature,  is  and  has  its  being, 

A  double  essence.  Human  and  Divine. 

So  that  the  God  is  hidden  in  the  man, 

And  something  Human  bounds  and  forms  the  God ; 

Which  else  had  shown  too  great  and  undefined 

For  mortal  sight,  and  having  no  human  eye 

To  see  it,  were  unknown.      But  we  who  bore 

Sway  of  old  time,  we  were  but  attributes 

1  Of  the  great  God  who  is  all  Things  that  be — • 

The  Pillar  of  the  Earth  and  starry  Sky, 

The  Depth  of  the  great  Deep ;  the  Sun,  the  Moon, 

The  Word  which  Makes  ;  the  All-compelling  Love  — 

For  all  Things  He  within  His  Infinite  Form." 

Even  as  she  spake,  a  throng  of  heavenly  forms 
Floated  around  me,  filling  all  my  soul 
With  fair  unearthly  beauty,  and  the  air 
With  such  ambrosial  perfume  as  is  born 
When  morning  bursts  upon  a  tropic  sea. 
From  boundless  wastes  of  flowers  ;  and  as  I  knelt 
In  rapture,  lo  !  the  same  clear  voice  again 

'   See  the  Orphic  Hymns. 


1 82  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

From  oui  the  throng  of  gods  : 

"  Those  whom  thou  seest 
Were  even  as  I,  embodiments  of  Him 
Who  is  the  Centre  of  all  Life :  myself 
The  Maiden-Queen  of  Purity ;  and  Strength, 
Divine  when  unabused ;   Love  too,  the  Spring 
And  Cause  of  Things  ;  and  Knowledge,  which  lays 

bare 
Their  secret ;  and  calm  Duty,  Queen  of  all, 
And  Motherhood  in  one ;  and  Youth,  which  bears, 
Beauty  of  Form  and  Life  and  Light,  and  breathes 
The  breath  of  Inspiration;  and  the  Soul, 
The  particle  of  God,  sent  down  to  man, 
Which  doth  in  turn  reveal  the  world  and  God. 

Wherefore  it  is  men  called  on  Artemis, 
The  refuge  of  young  souls ;  for  still  in  age 
They  keep  some  dim  reflection  uneffaced 
Of  a  Diviner  Purity  than  comes 
To  the  spring  days  of  youth,  when  all  the  world 
Smiles,  and  the  rapid  blood  thro'  the  young  veins 
Courses,  and  all  is  glad ;  yet  knowing  too 
That  innocence  is  young  —  before  the  soil 
And  smirch  of  sadder  knowledge,  settling  on  it. 
Sully  its  primal  whiteness.     So  they  knelt 


ARTEMIS.  183 

At  my  white  shrines,  the  eager  vigorous  youths, 
To  whom  life's  road  showed  like  a  dewy  field 
In  early  summer  dawns,  when  to  the  sound 
Of  youth's  clear  voice,  and  to  the  cheerful  rush 
Of  the  tumultuous  feet  and  clamorous  tongues 
Careering  onwards,  fair  and  dappled  fawns. 
Strange  birds  with  jewelled  plumes,  fierce  spotted 

pards, 
Rise  in  the  joyous  chase,  to  be  caught  and  bound 
By  the  young  conqueror ;  nor  yet  the  charm 
Of  sensual  ease  allures.     And  they  knelt  too. 
The  pure  sweet  maidens  fair  and  fancy-free. 
Whose  innocent  virgin  hearts  shrank  from  the  touch 
Of  passion  as  from  wrong  —  sweet  moonlit  lives 
Which  fade,  and  pale,  and  vanish,  in  the  glare 
Of  Love's  hot  noontide :  these  came  robed  in  white, 
With  holy  hymns  and  soaring  liturgies : 
,  And  so  men  fabled  me,  a  huntress  now. 
Borne  thro'  the  flying  woodlands,  fair  and  free  ; 
And  now  tlie  pale  cold  Moon,  Light  without  warmth, 
Zeal  without  touch  of  passion,  heavenly  love 
For  human,  and  the  altar  for  the  home. 

But  oh,  how  sweet  it  was  to  take  the  love 
And  awe  of  my  young  worshippers;  to  watch 


1 84  THE   EPIC   OF  JIADKS. 

The  pure  joune;  tjaze  and  hear  the  pure  young  voice 

Mount  in  the  hymn,  or  see  the  gay  troop  come 

With  the  first  dawn  of  day,  brushing  the  dew 

From  the  unpolluted  fields,  and  wake  to  song 

The  slumbering  birds;  strong  in  their  innocence! 

I  did  not  envy  any  goddess  of  all 

The  Olympian  company  her  votaries ! 

Ah,  happy  days  of  old  which  now  are  gone ! 

A  memory  and  a  dream  !  for  now  on  earth 

I  rule  no  longer  o'er  young  willing  hearts 

In  voluntary  fealty,  which  should  cease 

When  Love,  with  fiery  accents  calling,  woke 

The  slumbering  soul  ;   as  now  he  should  for  those 

Who  kneel  before  the  purer,  sadder  shrine 

Which  has  replaced  my  own.     But  ah  !  too  oft, 

Not  always,  but  too  often,  shut  from  life 

Within  pale  life-long  cloisters  and  the  bars 

Of  deadly  convent  prisons,  year  by  year. 

Age  after  age,  the  white  souls  fade  and  pine 

Which  simulate  the  joyous  service  free 

Of  those  young  worshippers.      I  would  that  I 

Might  loose  the  captives'  chain ;  or  Herakles, 

Who  was  a  mortal  once." 


HEKAKLES.  1 85 


But  he  who  stood 
Colossal  at  my  side  : 

"  I  toil  no  more 
On  earth,  nor  wield  again  the  mighty  strength 
Which  Zeus  once  gave  me  for  the  cure  of  ill. 
I  have  run  my  race ;   I  have  done  my  work  ;   I  rest 
For  ever  from  the  toilsome  days  I  gave 
To  the  suffering  race  of  men.     And  yet,  indeed, 
Methinks  they  suffer  still.     Tyrannous  growths 
And  monstrous  vex  them  still.      Pestilence  lurks 
And   sweeps   them   down.     Treacheries  come,   and 

wars, 
And  slay  them  still.     Vaulting  ambition  leaps 
And  falls  in  bloodshed  still.      But  I  am  here 
At  rest,  and  no  man  kneels  to  me,  or  keeps 
Reverence  for  strength  mighty  yet  unabused  — 
Strength  which  is   Power,  God's  choicest  gift,  more 

rare 
And  precious  than  all  Heauty,  or  the  charm 
Of  Wisdom,  since  it  is  the  instrument 
Thro'  which  all  Nature  works.      For  now  the  earth 
Is  full  of  meekness,  and  a  new  (iod  rules, 


1 86  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

Teaching  strange  precepts  of  liumility 

And  mercy  and  forgiveness.     Yet  I  trow 

There  is  no  lack  of  bloodshed  and  deceit 

And  groanings,  and  the  tyrant  works  his  wrong 

Even  as  of  old  ;  but  now  there  is  no  arm 

Like  mine,  made  strong  by  Zeus,  to  beat  liim  down. 

Him  and  his  wrong  together.     Yet  I  know 

I  am  not  all  discrowned.     The  strong  brave  souls, 

The  manly  tender  hearts,  whom  tale  of  wrong 

To  woman  or  child,  to  all  weak  things  and  small. 

Fires  like  a  blow ;  calling  the  righteous  flush 

Of  anger  to  the  brow  ;  knotting  the  cords 

Of  muscle  on  the  arm  ;  with  one  desire 

To  hew  the  spoiler  down,  and  make  an  end, 

And  go  their  way  for  others ;  making  light 

Of  toil  and  pain,  and  too  laborious  days. 

And  peril  ;  beat  unchanged,  albeit  they  serve 

A  Lord  of  meekness.     For  the  world  still  needs 

Its  champion  as  of  old,  and  finds  him  still. 

Not  always  now  with  mighty  sinews  and  thews 

Like  mine,  though  still  these  profit,  but  keen  brain 

And  voice  to  move  men's  souls  to  love  the  right 

And  hate  the  wrong;  even  tluV  the  bodily  form 

Be  weak,  of  giant  strength,  strong  to  assail 

The  hydra  heads  of  Evil,  and  to  slay 


HERAKLES.  1 8/ 

The  monsters  that  now  waste  them :    Ignorance, 

Self-seeking,  coward  fears,  the  hate  of  Man, 

Disguised  as  love  of  God.      These  there  are  still 

With  task  as  hard  as  mine.      For  what  was  it 

To  strive  with  bodily  ills,  and  do  great  deeds 

Of  daring  and  of  strength,  and  bear  the  crown. 

To  his  who  wages  lifelong,  doubtful  strife 

With  an  impalpable  foe  ;  conquering  indeed. 

But,  ere  he  hears  the  paean  or  sees  the  pomp, 

Laid  low  in  the  arms  of  Death  ?    And  tho'  men  cease 

To  worship  at  my  shrine,  yet  not  the  less 

I  hold,  it  is  the  toils  I  knew,  the  pains 

I  bore  for  others,  which  have  kept  the  heart 

Of  manhood  undefiled,  and  nerved  the  arm 

Of  sacrifice,  and  made  the  martyr  strong 

To  do  and  bear,  and  taught  the  race  of  men 

How  godlike  'tis  to  suffer  thro'  life,  and  die 

At  last  for  others'  good  !  " 

The  strong  god  ceased, 
And  stood  a  little,  musing  ;  blest  indeed, 
l)Ut  bearing,  as  it  seemed,  some  faintest  trace 
Of  earthly  struggle  still,  not  the  gay  ease 
Of  the  elder  heaven-born  gods. 


I  88  THE   EPJC   OF  JJADES. 

And  tlien  there  came 
I5cauty  and  Joy  in  one,  bearing-  tlie  form 
()£  woman.      How  to  reach  with  inviting  words 
That  infinite  perfection  ?     All  have  known 
The  breathing  marbles  which  the  Greek  has  left 
Who  saw  her  near,  and  strove  to  fix  her  charms. 
And  exquisitely  failed  ;  or  those  fair  forms 
The  Painter  offered  at  a  later  shrine, 
And  failed.      Nay,  what  are  words?  —  he  knows  it 

well 
Who  loves,  or  who  has  loved. 

She  with  a  smile 
Playing  around  her  rosy  lips;  as  plays 
The  sunbeam  on  a  stream  : 

"  Shall  I  complain 
Men  kneel  to  me  no  longer,  taking  to  them 
Some  graver,  sterner  worship  ;  grown  too  wise 
For  fleeting  joys  of  Love  ?     Nay,  Love  is  Youth, 
And  still  the  world  is  young.      Still  shall  I  reign 
Within  the  hearts  of  men,  while  Time  shall  last 
And  Life  renews  itself.     All  Life  that  is. 
From  weak  things  of  earth  or  sea  or  air, 
Which  creep  or  float  for  an  hour  ;   to  godlike  man  — 
All  know  me  and  are  mine.      I  am  llic  source 


APHRODITE.  189 

And  mother  of  all,  both  gods  and  men  ;  the  spring 
Of  Force  and  Joy,  which,  penetrating  all 
Within  the  hidden  depths  of  the  Unknown, 
Sets  the  blind  seed  of  Being,  and  from  the  bond 
Of  incomplete  and  dual  Essences 
Evolves  the  harmony  which  is  Life.     The  world 
Were  dead  without  my  rays,  who  am  the  Light 
Which  vivifies  the  world.     Nay,  but  for  me, 
The  universal  order  which  attracts 
Sphere  unto  sphere,  and  keeps  them  in  their  paths 
For  ever,  were  no  more.     All  things  are  bound 
Within  my  golden  chain,  whose  name  is  Love. 

And  if  there  be,  indeed,  some  sterner  souls 
Or  sunk  in  too  much  learning,  or  hedged  round 
By  care  and  greed,  or  haply  too  much  rapt 
By  pale  ascetic  fervors,  to  delight 
To  kneel  to  me,  the  universal  voice 
Scorns  them  as  those  who,  missing  willingly 
The  good  that  Nature  offers,  dwell  unl)lest 
Who  miglit  be  blest,  but  would  not.      Every  voice 
Of  bard  in  every  age  has  hymned  me.     All 
The  breathing  marliles,  all  the  heavenly  hues 
Of  painting,  ]n-aisc  me.      Even  the  loveless  shades 
Of  dim  monastic  cloisters  show  some  gleam. 


1 90  Till-:    EPIC   OF  HADES. 

Tho'  faint,  of  inc.      Amid  tliu  l)usy  throngs 
Of  cities  reign  I,  and  o'er  lonely  plains, 
Beyond  the  ice-fields  of  the  frozen  North, 
And  the  warm  waves  of  undiscovered  seas. 

For  I  was  born  out  of  the  sparkling  foam 
Which  lights  the  crest  of  the  blue  mystic  wave. 
Stirred  by  the  wandering  breath  of  Life's  pure  dawn 
From  a  young  soul's  calm  depths.     There,  without 

voice. 
Stretched  on  the  breathing  curve  of  a  young  breast. 
Fluttering  a  little,  fresh  from  the  great  deep 
Of  life,  and  creamy  as  the  opening  rose, 
Naked  I  lie,  naked  yet  unashamed, 
While  youth's  warm  tide  steals  round  me  with  a 

kiss, 
And  floods  each  limb  with  fairness.     Shame  I  know 

not  — 
Shame  is  for  wrong,  and  not  for  innocence  — 
The  veil  which  Error  grasps  to  hide  itself 
From  the  awful  Eye.     Ikit  I,  I  lie  unveiled 
And  unashamed  —  the  livelong  day  I  lie. 
The  warm  wave  murmuring  to  me ;  and,  all  night. 
Hidden  in  the  moonlit  caves  of  happy  Sleep, 
I  dream  until  the  morning  and  am  glad. 


aphrodit£.  191 

Why  should  I  seek  to  clothe  myself,  and  hide 
The  treasure  of  my  Beauty  ?     Shame  may  wait 
On  those  for  whom  'twas  given.     The  sties  of  sense 
Are  none  of  mine ;   the  brutish,  loveless  wrong, 
The  venal  charm,  the  simulated  flush 
Of  fleshly  passion,  they  are  none  of  mine. 
Only  corruptions  of  me.      Yet  I  know 
The  counterfeit  the  stronger,  since  gross  souls 
And  brutish  sway  the  earth  ;  and  yet  I  hold 
That  sense  itself  is  sacred,  and  I  deem 
'Twere  better  to  grow  soft  and  sink  in  sense 
Than  gloat  o'er  blood  and  wrong. 

My  kingdom  is 
Over  infinite  grades  of  being.     All  breathing  things, 
From  the  least  crawling  insect  to  the  brute. 
From  brute  to  man,  confess  me.      Yet  in  man 
I  find  my  worthiest  worship.     Wliere  man  is, 
A  youth  and  a  maid,  a  youth  and  a  maid,  naught 

else 
Is  wanting  for  my  temple.     Every  clime 
Kneels  to  me  —  the  long  breaker  swells  and  falls 
Under  the  palms,  mixed  with  the  merry  noise 
Of  savage  bridals,  and  the  straight  brown  limbs 
Know  me,  and  over  all  the  endless  plains 
I  reign,  and  by  the  tents  on  the  hot  sand 


192  THK   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

And  sea-girt  isles  am  queen,  and  on  tlie  side 
Of  silent  mountains,  where  the  white  cots  gleam 
Upon  the  green  hill  pastures,  and  no  sound 
But  the  thunder  of  the  avalanche  is  borne 
To  the  listening  rocks  around ;  and  in  fair  lands 
Where  all  is  peace;  where  thro'  the  happy  hush 
Of  tranquil  summer  evenings,  mid  the  corn. 
Or  thro'  cool  arches  of  the  gadding  vines. 
The  lovers  stray  together  hand  in  hand. 
Hymning  my  praise ;  and  by  the  stately  streets 
Of  echoing  cities  —  over  all  the  earth. 
Palace  and  cot,  mountain  and  plain  and  sea, 
The  burning  South,  the  icy  North,  the  old 
And  immemorial  East,  the  unbounded  West, 
No  new  god  comes  to  spoil  me  utterly  — 
All  worship  and  are  mine!" 

With  a  sweet  smile 
Upon  her  rosy  mouth,  the  goddess  ceased  ; 
And  when  she  spake  no  more,  the  silence  weighed 
As  heavy  on  my  soul  as  when  it  takes 
Some  gracious  melody,  and  leaves  the  ear 
Unsatisfied  and  longing,  till  the  fount 
Of  sweetness  springs  again. 


ATHENE.  193 


But  while  I  stood 
Expectant,  lo  !  a  fair  pale  form  drew  near 
With  front  severe,  and  wide  blue  eyes  which  bore 
Mild  wisdom  in  their  gaze.     Great  purity 
Shone  from  her  — not  the  young-eyed  innocence 
Of  her  whom  first  I  saw,  but  that  which  comes 
From  wider  knowledge,  which  restrains  the  tide 
Of  passionate  youth,  and  leads  the  musing  soul 
By  the  calm  deeps  of  Wisdom.     And  I  knew 
My  eyes  had  seen  the  fair,  the  virgin  Queen, 
Who  once  within  her  shining  Parthenon 
Beheld  the  sages  kneel. 

*   She  with  clear  voice 
And  coldly  sweet,  yet  with  a  softness  too, 
As  doth  befit  a  virgin  : 

"  She  does  right 
To  boast  her  sway,  my  sister,  seeing  indeed 
That  all  things  are  as  by  a  double  law. 
And  from  a  doul)lc  root  tlie  tree  of  Life 
Springs  up  to  the  face  of  heaven.      Body  and  Soul, 
Matter  and  Spirit,  lower  joys  of  Sense 
And  higher  joys  of  'I'liouglit,  I  know  that  both 


194  ^^/^^    /•VVr   OF  JIADKS. 

Build  up  the  shrine  of  Dcing.      The  brute  sense 
Leaves    man    a    l)rutc ;    hut,    winged    with    soaring 

thought, 
Mounts  to  higli  heaven.      Tlie  uneml)odicd  spirit, 
Dwelling  alone,  unmated,  void  of  sense, 
Is  impotent.     And  yet  I  hold  there  is, 
Far  off,  but  not  too  far  for  mortal  reach, 
A  calmer  height,  where,  nearer  to  the  stars. 
Thought  sits  alone  and  gazes  with  rapt  gaze, 
A  large-eyed  maiden  in  a  robe  of  white. 
Who    brings    the    light   of    Knowledge    down,   and 

draws 
To  her  pontifical  eyes  a  bridge  of  gold. 
Which  spans  from  earth  to  heaven. 

For  what  were  life, 
If  things  of  sense  were  all,  for  those  large  souls 
And  high,  which  grudging  Nature  has  shut  fast 
Within  unlovely  forms,  or  those  from  whom 
The  circuit  of  the  rapid  gliding  years 
Steals  the  brief  gift  of  beauty  ?     Shall  we  hold. 
With  idle  singers,  all  the  treasure  of  hope 
Is  lost  with  youth  —  swift-fleeting,  treacherous  youth, 
Which  fades  and  flies  before  the  ripening  brain 
Crowns  life  with  Wisdom's  crown  1     Nay,  even  in 

youth, 


ATIIEXE.  195 

Is  it  not  more  to  walk  upon  the  heights 

Alone  —  the  cold  free  heights — •  and  mark  the  vale 

Lie  breathless  in  the  glare,  or  hidden  and  blurred 

By  cloud  and  storm ;  or  pestilence  and  war 

Creep   on   with    blood    and   death  ;    while   the    soul 

dwells 
Apart  upon  the  peaks,  outfronts  the  sun 
As  the  eagle  does,  and  takes  the  coming  dawn 
While  all  the  vale  is  dark,  and  knows  the  springs 
Of  tiny  rivulets  hurrying  from  the  snows, 
Which  soon  shall  swell  to  vast  resistless  floods, 
And  feed  the  Oceans  which  divide  the  World  ? 

Oh,  ecstasy!  oh,  wonder!  oh,  delight! 
Which  neither  the  slow-withering  wear  of  Time, 
Wliich   takes   all   else  —  the   smooth    and    rounded 

cheek 
Of  youth  ;  the  lightsome  step  ;  the  warm  young  heart 
Which  beats  for  love  or  friend  ;  the  treasure  of  hope 
Immeasurable;  the  quick-coursing  blood 
Which  makes  it  joy  to  be,  —  ay,  takes  them  all 
And  leaves  us  nauglit  —  nor  yet  satiety 
I'orn  of  too  full  possession,  takes  or  mars! 
Oh,  fair  delight  of  learning !  which  grows  great 
And  stronger  and  more  keen,  for  slower  limbs, 


196  THE    EPIC   OF  /JADES. 

And  dimmer  eyes  and  loneliness,  and  loss 

Of  lower  good  —  wealth,  friendship,  ay,  and  Love  — 

When  the  swift  soul,  turning  its  weary  gaze 

From  the  old  vanished  joys,  projects  itself 

Into  the  void  anti  floats  in  empty  space. 

Striving  to  reach  the  mystic  source  of  Things, 

The  secrets  of  the  earth  and  sea  and  air, 

The  Law  that  holds  the  process  of  the  suns, 

The  awful  depths  of  Mind  and  Thought ;  the  prime 

Unfathomable  mystery  of  Cod  ! 

Is  there,  then,  any  who  holds  my  worship  cold 
And  lifeless?     Nay,  but  'tis  the  light  which  cheers 
The  waning  life  !      Love  thou  thy  love,  brave  youth  ! 
Cleave  to  thy  love,  fair  maid  !  it  is  the  Law 
Which  dominates  the  world,  that  bids  ye  use 
Your  nature ;  but,  when  now  the  fuller  tide 
Slackens  a  little,  turn  your  calmer  eyes 
To  the  fair  page  of  Knowledge.      It  is  power 
I  give,  and  power  is  precious.     It  is  strength 
To  live  four-square,  careless  of  outward  shows, 
And  self-sufficing.      It  is  clearer  sight 
To  know  the  rule  of  life,  the  Eternal  scheme; 
And,  knowing  it,  to  do  and  not  to  err, 
And,  doing,  to  be  blest." 


ATHENE.  197 

The  calm  voice  soared 
Higher  and  higher  to  the  close  ;  the  cold 
Clear  accents,  fired  as  by  a  hidden  fire, 
Glowed  into  life  and  tenderness,  and  throbbed 
As  with  some  spiritual  ecstasy 
Sweeter  than  that  of  Love. 


1 98  THE   f.riC   OF  1 1. 1  PES. 


lUit  as  tlie)'  died, 
I  heard  an  am])ler  voice  ;   and  looking,  marked 
A  fair  and  gracious  form.     She  seemed  a  Queen 
Who  ruled  o'er  gods  and  men  ;  the  majesty 
Of  perfect  womanhood.      No  youthful  bud 
Of  beauty,  but  the  full  consummate  flower 
Was  hers  ;  and  from  her  mild  large  eyes  looked  forth 
Gentle  command,  and  motherhood,  and  home, 
And  pure  affection.     Awe  and  reverence 
O'orspread  me,  as  I  knew  my  eyes  had  looked 
On  sovereign  Herd,  mother  of  the  gods. 

She,  with    clear,   rounded    utterance,    sweet    and 
calm  : 
"  I  know  Love's  fruit  is  good  and  fair  to  see 
And  taste,  if  any  gain  it,  and  I  know 
How  brief  Life's  Passion-tide,  which  when  it  ends 
May  change  to  thirst  for  Knowledge,  and  I  know 
How  fair  the  realm  of  Mind,  wherein  the  soul 
Thirsting  to  know,  wings  its  impetuous  way 
Beyond  the  bounds  of  Thought ;   and  yet  I  hold 
There  is  a  higher  bliss  than  these,  which  fits 


HERE.  199 

A  mortal  life,  compact  of  Body  and  Soul, 
And  therefore  double-natured  —  a  calm  path 
Which  lies  before  the  feet,  thro'  common  ways 
And  undistinguished  crowds  of  toiling  men, 
And  yet  is  hard  to  tread,  tho'  seeming  smooth, 
And  yet,  tho'  level,  earns  a  worthier  crown. 

For  Knowledge  is  a  steep  which  few  may  climb, 
While  Duty  is  a  path  which  all  may  tread. 
And  if  the  Soul  of  Life  and  Thought  be  this. 
How  best  to  speed  the  mighty  scheme,  which  still 
Fares  onward  day  by  day  — the  Life  of  the  World, 
Which  is  the  sum  of  petty  lives,  that  live 
And  die  so  this  may  live  —  how  then  shall  each 
Of  that  great  multitude  of  faithful  souls 
Who  walk  not  on  the  heights,  fulfil  himself. 
But  by  the  duteous  Life  which  looks  not  forth 
Beyond  its  narrow  sphere,  and  finds  its  work. 
And  works  it  out;  content,  this  done,  to  fall 
And  perish,  if  Fate  will,  so  the  great  Scheme 
(Joes  onward  ? 

Wlierefore  am  1,  Queen  in  Heaven 
And  llarth.  whose  realm  is  Duty,  bearing  rule 
More  constant  and  more  wide  than  those  whose  words 
Tiiou  heardest  last.      Mine  are  the  striving  souls 


200  THE   EPIC   OF  HADES. 

Of  fathers  toilini,^  day  i)y  day  obscure 
And  unrewarded,  save  by  tlieir  own  hearts, 
Mid  wrangHngs  of  the  Forum  or  the  mart; 
Who  long  for  joys  of  Thought,  and  yet  must  toil 
Unmurmuring  thro'  dull  lives  from  youth  to  age ; 
Who  haply  miglit  have  worn  instead  the  crown 
Of  Honor  and  of  Fame  :  mine  the  fair  mothers 
Who,  for  the  love  of  children  and  of  home, 
When  passion  dies,  expend  their  toilful  years 
In  loving  labor  sweetened  by  the  sense 
Of  Duty  :  mine  the  statesman  who  toils  on 
Thro'  vigilant  nights  and  days,  guiding  his  State, 
Yet  finds  no  gratitude  ;  and  those  white  souls 
Who  give  themselves  for  others  all  their  years 
In  trivial  tasks  of  Pity.     The  fine  growths 
Of  Man  and  Time  are  mine,  and  spend  themselves 
For  me  and  for  the  mystical  End  which  lies 
Beyond  their  gaze  and  mine,  and  yet  is  good, 
Tiio"  hidden  from  men  and  gods. 

For  as  the  flower 
Of  the  tiger-lily  bright  with  varied  hues 
Is  for  a  day,  then  fades  and  leaves  behind 
Fairness  nor  fruit,  while  the  green  tiny  tuft 
Swells  to  the  purple  of  the  clustering  grape 
Or  golden  waves  of  wheat ;  so  lives  of  men 


HERE.  20 1 

Which  show  most  splendid,  fade  and  are  deceased 

And  leave  no  trace  ;  while  those,  unmarked,  unseen. 

Which  no  man  recks  of,  rear  the  stately  tree 

Of  Knowledge,  not  for  itself  sought  out,  but  found 

In  tlie  dusty  ways  of  life  —  a  fairer  growth 

Than  springs  in  cloistered  shades  ;  and  from  the  sum 

Of  Duty,  blooms  sweeter  and  more  divine 

The  fair  ideal  of  the  Race,  than  comes 

From  glittering  gains  of  Learning. 

Life,  full  life, 
Full-flowered,  full-fruited,  reared  from  homely  earth, 
Rooted  in  duty,  and  thro'  long  calm  years 
Bearing  its  load  of  healthful  energies  ; 
Stretching  its  arms  on  all  sides  ;   fed  with  dews 
Of  cheerful  sacrifice,  and  clouds  of  care. 
And  rain  of  useful  tears ;  warmed  by  the  sun 
Of  calm  affection,  tiH  it  breathes  itself 
In  perfume  to  the  heavens — this  is  the  prize 
I  hold  most  dear,  more  precious  than  tiie  fruit 
Of  Knowledge  or  of  Love." 

The  goddess  ceased 
As  dies  some  gracious  harmony,  the  child 
Of  wedded  themes  which  single  and  alone 
Were  discords,  but  united  breathe  a  .sound 
Sweet  as  the  sounds  of  heaven. 


202  THE    EPJC   OF  HADES. 


And  llien  stoud  forth 
The  hist  of  the  gods  I  saw,  tlie  first  in  rank 
And  dignity  and  beauty,  the  young  god 
Who  grows  not  old,  the  Light  of  Heaven  and  Earth, 
The  Worker  from  afar,  who  sends  the  fire 
Of  inspiration  to  the  bard  and  bathes 
The  world  in  hues  of  heaven  —  the  golden  link 
Between  High  God  and  Man. 

With  a  sweet  voice 
Whose  every  note  was  sweetest  melody  — 
The  melody  has  fled,  the  words  remain  — 
Apollo  sang : 

"  1  know  how  fair  the  face 
Of  Purity;  I  know  the  treasure  of  Strength  ; 
I  know  the  charm  of  Love,  the  calmer  grace 
Of  Wisdom  and  of  duteous -well-spent  lives  : 
And  yet  there  is  a  loftier  height  than  these. 

There  is  a  Height  higher  than  mortal  thought; 
There  is  a  Love  warmer  tlian  mortal  love  ; 
There  is  a  Life  which  taketh  not  its  hues 
From  Earth  or  earthly  things ;  and  so  grows  pure 


APOLLO.  203 

And  higher  than  the  petty  cares  of  men, 
And  is  a  blessed  life  and  glorilied. 

Oh,  white  young  souls,  strain  upward,  upward  still. 
Even  to  the  heavenly  source  of  Purity  ! 
Brave  hearts,  bear  on  and  suffer !     Strike  for  right, 
Strong   arms,   and    hew   down   wrong  !     The  world 

hath  need 
Of  all  of  you  —  the  sensual,  wrongful  world  !  — 

Hath  need  of  you,  and  of  thee  too,  fair  Love. 
Oh,  lovers,  cling  together !  the  old  world 
Is  full  of  Hate.     Sweeten  it;  draw  in  one 
Two  separate  chords  of  Life ;  and  from  the  bond 
Of  twin  souls  lost  in  Harmony  create 
A  Fair  (iod  dwelling  with  you  —  Love,  the  Lord  ! 

Waft  yourselves,  yearning  souls,  upon  the  stars  ; 
Sow  yourselves  on  the  wandering  winds  of  space ; 
Watch  patient  all  your  days,  if  your  eyes  take 
Some  dim,  cold  ray  of  Knowledge.     The  dull  world 
Ilatli  need  of  you  —  the  purblind,  slothful  world  ! 

Live  on,  brave  lives,  chained  to  the  narrow  round 
Of  Duty;  live,  expend  yourselves,  and  make 


204  'Jl'^^i-    /iVVC   OF  HADES. 

The  orb  of  Being  wheel  onward  steadfastly 
Upon  its  path — the  Lord  of  Life  alone 
Knows  to  what  goal  of  Good;  work  on,  live  on: 
And  yet  there  is  a  liighcr  work  than  yours. 

To  have  looked  upon  the  face  of  the  Unknown 
And  Perfect  Beauty.     To  have  heard  the  voice 
Of  Godhead  in  the  winds  and  in  the  seas. 
To  have  known  Him  in  the  circling  of  the  suns, 
And  in  the  changeful  fates  and  lives  of  men. 

To  be  fulfilled  of  Godhead  as  a  cup 
Filled  with  a  precious  essence,  till  the  hand 
On  marble  or  on  canvas  falling,  leaves 
Celestial  traces,  or  from  reed  or  string 
Draws  out  faint  echoes  of  the  voice  Divine 
That  bring  God  nearer  to  a  faithless  world. 

Or,  higher  still  and  fairer  and  more  blest, 
To  be  His  seer.  His  prophet;  to  be  the  voice 
Of  the  Ineffable  Word  ;  to  be  the  glass 
Of  the  Ineffable  Light,  and  bring  them  down 
To  bless  the  earth,  set  in  a  shrine  of  Song. 

For  Knowledge  is  a  barren  tree  and  bare 
Bereft  of  God,  and  Duty  but  a  word, 


APOLLO.  205 

And  Strength  but  Tyranny,  and  Love,  Desire, 

And  Purity  a  folly;  and  the  Soul, 

Which  brings  down  God  to  Man,  the  Light  to  the 

world  ; 
He  is  the  Maker,  and  is  blest,  is  blest!" 

He  ended,  and  I  felt  my  soul  grow  faint 
With  too  much  sweetness. 

In  a  mist  of  grace 
They  faded,  that  bright  company,  and  seemed 
To  melt  into  each  other  and  shape  themselves 
Into  new  forms,  and  those  fair  goddesses 
Blent  in  a  perfect  woman  —  all  the  calm 
High  motherhood  of  Herd,  the  sweet  smile 
Of  Cypris,  fair  Athene's  earnest  eyes. 
And  the  young  purity  of  Artemis, 
Blent  in  a  perfect  woman  ;  and  in  her  arms, 
Fused  by  some  cosmic  interlacing  curves 
Of  Beauty  into  a  new  Innocence, 
A  child  with  eyes  divine,  a  little  child, 
A  little  child  —  no  more. 

And  those  great  gods 
Of  Tower  and  1  Scanty  left  a  heavenly  form 
Strong  not  to  act.  but  suffer;   fair  and  meek. 
Not  ijruud  and  eager;   with  soft  eyes  of  grace, 


206  rilK   EPIC   OF  IIADKS. 

Not  bold  with  joyous  youth  ;  and  for  the  fire 

Of  song,  and  for  the  happy  careless  life, 

A  sorrowful  i)ilgrimage  —  changed,  yet  the  same ; 

Only  Diviner  far;  and  keeping  still 

The  Life  God-lighted  and  the  sacrifice. 

And  when  these  faded  wholly,  at  my  side, 
Tho'  hidden  before  by  those  too-radiant  forms, 
I  was  aware  once  more  of  her,  my  guide 
Psyche,  who  had  not  left  me,  floating  near 
On  golden  wings  ;  and  all  the  plains  of  heaven 
Were  left  to  us,  me  and  my  soul  alone. 

Then  when  my  thought  revived  again,  I  said 
Whispering,  "  But  Zeus  I  saw  not,  the  prime  Source 
And  Sire  of  all  the  gods." 

And  she  bent  low 
With  downcast  eyes.     "  Nay.     Thou  hast  seen  of 

Him 
All  that  thine  eyes  can  bear,  in  those  fair  forms 
Which  are  but  parts  of  Him  and  are  indeed 
Attributes  of  the  Substance  which  supports 
The  Universe  of  Things  —  the  Soul  of  the  World, 
The  Stream  which  flows  Eternal,  from  no  Source 
Into  no  Sea.      His  Purity,  His  Strength, 


ZEUS.  207 

His  Love,  His  Knowledge,  His  unchanging  rule 

Of  Duty,  thou  hast  seen,  only  a  part 

And  not  the  whole,  being  a  finite  mind 

Too  weak  for  infinite  thought ;  nor,  couldst  thou  see 

All  of  Him  visible  to  mortal  sight, 

Wouldst  thou  see  all  His  essence,  since  the  gods  — 

Glorified  essences  of  Human  mould, 

Who  are  but  Zeus  made  visible  to  men  — 

See  Him  not  wholly,  only  some  thin  edge 

And  halo  of  His  glory ;   nor  know  they 

What  vast  and  unsuspected  Universes 

Lie  beyond  thought,  where  yet  He  rules,  like  those 

Vast  Suns  we  cannot  see,  round  which  our  Sun 

Moves  with  his  system,  or  those  darker  still 

Which  not  even  thus  we  know,  but  yet  exist 

Tho'  no  eye  marks,  nor  thought  itself,  and  lurk 

In  the  awful  Depths  of  Space;  or  that  which  is 

Not  orbed  as  yet,  but  indiscrete,  confused, 

Sown  thro'  the  void  —  the  faintest  gleam  of  light 

Which  sets  itself  to  Be.     And  yet  is  He 

There  too,  and  rules,  none  seeing.      But  sometimes 

To  this  our  heaven,  which  is  so  like  to  earth 

But  nearer  to  Him,  for  awhile  He  shows 

Some  gleam  of  His  own  brightness,  and  methinks 

It  cometh  s<K)n  ;   l)ut  thou,  if  thou  sliouid.st  gaze. 


208  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

Thy  Life  will  rush  to  His  —  the  tiny  spark 

Absorbed  in  that  full  blaze  —  and  what  there  is 

Of  mortal  fall  from  thee." 

But  I :  "  Oh,  soul, 

What  holdeth  Life  more  precious  than  to  know 

The  Giver  and  to  die?" 

Then  she  :   "  Behold  ! 
Look  upward  and  adore." 

And  with  the  word, 
Unhasting,  undelaying,  gradual,  sure, 
The  floating  cloud  which  clothed  the  hidden  peak 
Rose  slow  in  awful  silence,  laying  bare 
Spire  after  rocky  spire,  snow  after  snow, 
Whiter  and  yet  more  dreadful,  till  at  last 
It  left  the  summit  clear. 

Then  with  a  bound. 
In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  in  the  flash  of  a  thought, 
I  knew  an  Awful  Effluence  of  Light, 
Formless,  Ineffable,  Perfect,  burst  on  me 
And  flood  my  being  round,  and  take  my  life 
Into  itself.     I  saw  my  guide  bent  down 
Prostrate,  her  wings  before  her  face ;  and  then 
No  more. 


THE   EPIC   OF  HADES.  209 

But  when  I  woke  from  my  long  trance 

Behold,  it  was  no  longer  Tartarus, 

Nor  Hades,  nor  Olympus,  but  the  bare 

And  unideal  aspect  of  the  fields 

Which  Spring  not  yet  had  kissed  —the  strange  old 

Earth 

So  far  more  fabulous  now  than  in  the  days 

When  Man  was  young,  nor  yet  the  mystery 

Of  human  life  transformed  it.      From  the  hills, 

The  long  night  fled  at  last,  the  unclouded  sun. 

The  dear,  fair  sun,  leapt  upward  swift,  and  smote 

My  sight  with  rays  of  gold,  and  pierced  my  brain 

With  too  much  light  ere  my  entranced  eyes 

Could  hide  themselves. 

And  I  was  on  the  Earth 

Dreaming  the  dream  of  Life  again,  as  late 

I  dreamed  the  dream  of  Death. 

Another  day 

Dawned  on  the  race  of  men  ;  another  world ; 

New  heavens,  and  new  earth. 


2IO  THE   EPIC   OF  IJADES. 


And  as  I  went 
Across  the  lightening  fields,  u])on  a  hank 
I  saw  a  single  snowdrop  glance,  and  Ijring 
Promise  of  Spring ;   and  keeping  my  old  thought 
In  the  old  fair  Hellenic  vesture  dressed, 
I  felt  myself  a  ghost,  and  seemed  to  be 
Now  fair  Adonis  hasting  to  tlie  arms 
Of  his  lost  love  —  now  sad  Persephone 
Restored  to  mother  earth  —  or  that  high  shade 
Orpheus,  who  gave  up  heaven  to  save  his  love. 
And  is  rewarded  —  or  young  Marsyas, 
Who  spent  his  youth  and  life  for  song,  and  yet 
'Was  happy  though  in  torture  —  or  the  fair 
And  dreaming  youth  I  saw,  who  still  awaits, 
Hopeful,  the  unveiling  heaven,  when  he  shall  see 
His  fair  ideal  love.      The  Ijirds  sang  blithe  ; 
There  came  a  tinkling  from  the  waking  fold  ; 
And  on  the  hillside  from  the  cot  a  girl 
Tripped  singing  with  her  pitcher.     All  the  sounds 
And  thoughts   which  still    are    beautiful  —  Youth, 

Song, 
Dawn,  Spring,  Renewal  —  and  my  soul  was  glad 


THE   EPIC   OE  HADES.  2 1  I 

Of  all  the  freshness,  and  I  felt  again 

The  youth  and  spring-tide  of  the  world,  and  thought, 

Which  feigned  those  fair  and  gracious  fantasies. 

For  every  dawn  that  breaks  brings  a  new  world, 
And  every  budding  bosom  a  new  life ; 
These  fair  tales,  which  we  know  so  beautiful, 
Show  only  finer  than  our  lives  to-day 
Because  their  voice  was  clearer,  and  they  found 
A  sacred  bard  to  sing  them.     We  are  pent, 
Who  sing  to-day,  by  all  the  garnered  wealth 
Of  ages  of  past  song.     We  have  no  more 
The  world  to  choose  from,  who,  where'er  we  turn, 
Tread  through  old  thoughts  and  fair.     Yet  must  we 

sing  — 
We  have  no  choice  ;   and  if  more  hard  the  toil 
In  noon,  when  all  is  clear,  than  in  the  fresh 
White  mists  of  early  morn,  yet  do  we  find 
Achievement  its  own  guerdon,  and  at  last 
The  rounder  song  of  manhood  grows  more  sweet 
Than  tlie  high  note  of  youth. 

For  Age,  long  Age  ! 
Naught  else  divides  us  from  the  fresh  young  days 
Which  men  call  ancient;  seeing  tliat  we  in  turn 
Shall  one  day  be  Time's  ancients,  and  inspire 


212  THE   EPIC   OE  HADES. 

The  wiser,  higher  race,  which  yet  shall  sing 
Because  to  sing  is  human,  and  high  thought 
Grows  rhythmic  ere  its  close.      Naught  else  there  is 
But  that  weird  beat  of  Time,  which  doth  disjoin 
To-day  from  Hellas. 

How  should  any  hold 
Those  precious  scriptures  only  old-world  tales 
Of  strange  impossible  torments  and  false  gods  ; 
Of  men  and  monsters  in  some  brainless  dream, 
Coherent,  yet  unmeaning,  linked  together 
By  some  false  skein  of  song  ? 

Nay !  evermore, 
All  thmgs  and  thoughts,  both  new  and  old,  are  writ 
Upon  the  unchanging  human  heart  and  soul. 
Has  Passion  still  no  prisoners  1     Pine  there  now 
No  lives  which  fierce  Love,  sinking  into  Lust, 
Has  drowned  at  last  in  tears  and  blood  —  plunged 

down 
To  the  lowest  depths  of  Hell .?     Have  not   strong 

Will 
And  high  Ambition  rotted  into  Greed 
And  Wrong,  for  any,  as  of  old,  and  whelmed 
The  struggling  soul  in  ruin  .?     Hell  lies  near 
Around  us  as  does  Heaven,  and  in  the  World, 
Which  is  our  Hades,  still  the  chequered  souls 


THE   EPIC   OF  HADES.  21 3 

Compact  of  good  and  ill  —  not  all  accurst 
Nor  altogether  blest  —  a  few  brief  years 
Travel  the  little  journey  of  their  lives, 
They  know  not  to  what  end.     The  weary  woman 
Sunk  deep  in  ease  and  sated  with  her  life, 
Much  loved  and  yet  unloving,  pines  to-day 
As  Helen ;  still  the  poet  strives  and  sings. 
And  hears  Apollo's  music,  and  grows  dumb, 
And  suffers,  yet  is  happy ;  still  the  young 
Fond  dreamer  seeks  his  high  ideal  love, 
And  finds  her  name  is  Death  ;  still  doth  the  fair 
And  innocent  life,  bound  naked  to  the  rock. 
Redeem  the  race ;  still  the  gay  tempter  goes 
And  leaves  his  victim,  stone  ;  still  doth  pain  bind 
Men's  souls  in  closer  links  of  lovingness. 
Than  Death  itself  can  sever ;  still  the  sight 
Of  too  great  beauty  blinds  us,  and  we  lose 
The  sense  of  earthly  splendors,  gaining  Heaven. 

And  still  the  skies  are  opened  as  of  old 
To  the  entranced  gaze,  ay,  nearer  far 
And  brighter  than  of  yore  ;  and  Might  is  there, 
And  Infinite  Purity  is  there,  and  higli 
Eternal  Wisdom,  and  the  calm  clear  face 
Of  Duty,  and  a  higher,  stronger  Love 


214  THE  EPIC  OF  HADES. 

And  Light  in  one,  and  a  new,  reverend  Name, 
Greater  than  any  and  combining  all ; 
And  over  all,  veiled  with  a  veil  of  cloud, 
God  set  far  off,  too  bright  for  mortal  eyes. 

And  always,  always,  with  each  soul  that  comes 
And  goes,  comes  that  fair  form  which  was  my  guide. 
Hovering,  with  golden  wings  and  eyes  divine, 
Above  the  bed  of  birth,  the  bed  of  death, 
Still  breathing  heavenly  airs  of  deathless  love. 

For  while  a  youth  is  lost  in  soaring  thought, 
And  while  a  maid  grows  sweet  and  beautiful. 
And  while  a  spring-tide  coming  lights  the  earth. 
And  while  a  child,  and  while  a  flower  is  born. 
And  while  one  wrong  cries  for  redress  and  finds 
A  soul  to  answer,  still  the  world  is  young ! 


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